Born This Hetalian Way
by Gothic Dancer
Summary: A series of one-shots for Lady GaGa's BORN THIS WAY. Follow-up to THE HETALIAN MONSTER. EXTRA: Romania performs "Stuck on F'in' You"
1. Track 1: Born This Way

**Author's Note:** WELCOME BACK! 8D

I'm switching the placements of "Born This Way" and "Marry the Night." "Born This Way" was released first, and I've already established it as the opening for this new story series. Plus, switching the two doesn't change any plots I've created.

Enjoy. :)

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Born This Way**

**I was born a savior.**

_"Hic...hic...Mama..."_

_A woman looked down at the young child and smiled sympathetically. "What is it, Dear?"_

_The child looked up, tears streaming down her red, pouty cheeks. She shut her eyes tightly and let out a wail. "Mama! The o-other kids a-always make fun of me! They s-said I was ugly and that God doesn't love me!" She ran forward and clutched her mother's long skirt, fisting the heavy fabric in her hands. Still wailing, she buried her face into the skirt and hugged her mother's legs through the fabric._

_The woman rolled her eyes but kept smiling. Gently, she bent down to her daughter and made her take a few steps back. "And you believe them?" she asked._

_The girl looked up at her mother, not sure of how to reply. "I just...I just thought that God loves everyone! How could they say that He doesn't love me?"_

_"Joan, come here," the mother said, offering her hand. The girl called Joan took it and followed her to her parents' bedroom. In the room, the two stood before a reflective surface the mother kept there. Joan stared at it in awe, especially when her mother held it up in front of her. "Look at yourself, Joan. Do you think that you're ugly?"_

_Joan looked at her reflection curiously and then looked back up at her mother. "No, I don't think so."_

_"Then that's all that matters. Listen to me, Joan. There's nothing wrong with loving who you are, because God made you perfect. No matter what happens, you've got to hold your head up high. Every single one of us was created by God in a certain way with a certain destiny. Embrace it, Joan. If you do that, you'll go far. And remember that God loves everyone, no matter what."_

* * *

France was completely, utterly confused.

The nation stood just outside a room where Charles VII, his potential future king, was having a conversation with someone. This particular someone had traveled far, all the way from the far eastern side of the country, just to speak with the man, but that wasn't the most unbelievable thing about this person. No, this particular person was a young girl. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. Not only that, but she was an illiterate girl from the farmlands, who claimed to have had Divine visions. She had dressed as a man on her journey in order to get to the royal family in the first place, and she had endured a few backlashes from others high up in the social ladder. And, somehow, she had managed to get here after all that.

Well, this didn't happen every day.

But, in a strange way, France really couldn't argue, not with his current situation. The conflict with England was not going well for him. Much of his land had been captured by the British, and the British army wasn't stopping any time soon. Unless France did something drastic, England would eventually win this conflict.

France was _not_ about to admit defeat.

Suddenly, the doors to the private room opened. France, surprised, took a few steps back to allow the royal man and the peasant girl to exit. Standing up straight, he awaited a statement from the man, but Charles just grinned. The girl behind him smiled victoriously.

"Your Majesty?"

"We are to supply this girl with everything she will need to lead a campaign," the royal said, his tone sure and confident. "My mother-in-law is already funding a campaign, so we'll donate everything this girl will need from her."

France was stunned. Whatever that peasant girl had said must have been quite the statement. Either that, or Charles was just that desperate. That would be very understandable.

Regardless, France nodded, though he was still very, _very_ confused. He cleared his throat just as he was about to leave but stopped. He looked back at the man and said, "If I may?"

"Yes?"

"What is the girl's name?"

"My name is Joan of Arc, Sir."

Now France was stunned. This girl had just spoken over a member of the royal family! An illiterate, peasant, _farm girl_ had just spoken over _royalty_! And, even more shockingly, Charles didn't even seem that fazed. The man just smiled and kept his eyes on France.

"Yes, her name is Joan of Arc."

"And she...?"

The girl stepped in front of the future king.

"I am going to save you, France. I am going to win this war for you."

* * *

How in God's good name had this _happened?_ Just...HOW? Things were not supposed to go this way!

Things were not supposed to go so..._well!_

France just couldn't believe it. First, this Joan of Arc girl had completely rejected the military's old strategy of war and introduced the soldiers to a new way of invading and attacking. Okay, well, maybe that wasn't so crazy to do. After all, their old way of fighting had obviously not helped them much. The only way the army was going to win was if something changed...or a few things.

Now that the army wasn't so cautious, they actually started to win battles. In just the month of May of 1429 alone, Joan had managed to lead the army to several key victories. They had recaptured the fortress of Saint Loup, recovered the fortress of Saint Jean le Blanc (even though it has been deserted), forced the mayor of Orleans to open the gate so they could continue their campaign ("Take that, Jean d'Orleans!" Joan had shouted smugly.), captured the fortress of Saint Augustins with a single captain, and, most notably, victoriously attacked the English stronghold called _"les Tourelles."_

All in about three days.

With a horrible arrow wound in the neck.

France could only watch in awe.

"What a résumé."

With things going so well for his army, France decided to join Joan on her next campaigns, which began in June of the same year. When Joan got word of this, she giggled.

"Really? You?" she asked, smirking by the fire at the camp where the army had decided to rest.

France glared at her, offended. "I can fight fine, thank you very much. And it's only appropriate that I join you. I am the spirit of France after all. If I don't fight for what is rightfully mine, what kind of country would I be?"

Joan giggled again. "I'm joking," she replied, still smiling. "I know that you want to fight. You're rather good at it, too, at times."

"...'At times'?"

"Hey, no country can win every single conflict it faces."

France went to say something but stopped short. She was exactly right.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said after a moment, changing the subject. "How did you know that I was a nation when you first saw me?"

At this, Joan's smile turned to a devious smirk. She shuffled a bit and looked away from the man, obviously teasing him. France would have liked this if they were in bed, but he wasn't about to sleep with the girl who was leading him to victory, especially not the girl who had been declared a pure, good, Christian girl.

Finally, Joan looked back at France, a gentle look on her face. "You're different from the others. I could tell," she said. "You give off an aura that's different from a normal human being."

France was surprised. "You could tell?" Most normal human beings could not tell if a person was a nation. It was actually something that only nations could tell. Nations were born with a sense that allowed them to distinguish other nations from normal humans. Humans, for the most part, were not able to tell. But what else did he expect from the girl who claimed to have heard messages from God?

Joan nodded. "Yes, it wasn't that hard," she said, confirming France's thoughts. "I sensed that you were born differently from the rest of us. But that's okay. Being born different isn't such a bad thing."

"Because you were born differently?"

"...I'm not sure."

"Joan, not everyone can hear God's messages."

"...Maybe I am different then. I don't know."

France didn't bring it up again.

* * *

It's funny how things can be going so well and yet end so badly. France knew this all too well, thanks to a few incidents in his history, but this might just take the cake. This might be the be all, end all, of good things gone bad.

Joan had been captured.

Only a few weeks after major successes in campaigns to recapture old territories, something had gone terribly wrong. _But how could things happen so quickly?_ France wondered as he stood outside the dungeon holding his beloved savior. After such success in 1429, how could 1430 be so awful?

It had been just over a year since Joan's campaigns had begun. In that time, the French army had come so far as to even try to reclaim Paris from the English. That was a shining moment for France. He was closer than ever to taking back his wonderful capital! Nothing could be better than that! And Charles VII had been crowned King _du jure_. Really, nothing could be better!

If only that damn skirmish against the Burgundians had never happened. May 23, 1430. France would never forget that date. It was the date Joan of Arc had been captured and jailed for not surrendering. And now it was 1431.

It wasn't like Joan was letting her capture stop her though. She had tried to escape more times than France could count, even going so far as to jumping seventy feet into a dried-out moat! Now Joan was chained inside a cell in this horribly dark dungeon. France looked up as the doors opened, and he was allowed to go inside.

Behind him, England laughed. "You have five minutes, frog!"

France ignored his hated rival and walked down the long hallway towards Joan's cell. As he walked, he began to hate his king. Charles VII was doing nothing to help Joan. How could he be so heartless! Joan had cleared the way for him to become the king in the first place! Without her, he wouldn't have his position of power! And now he wasn't doing ANYTHING to help her in her greatest time of need! France hated him. Oh, how he hated him.

A guard suddenly appeared a motioned for France to come to a certain cell. He did so and looked down, only to see Joan chained to the wall. His heart broke at the sight of the beautiful girl so helpless and at the mercy of the enemy.

But at the same time, there was a kind of strength about her. She was dressed in men's clothes, but she had all the feminine power of a queen. She was both pitiful and powerful. Helpless and strong. Being dragged down and standing as tall as a queen.

Breathtaking.

She looked up. "Hi, France."

"Joan..."

She glared up at the guard. "Leave us. Give us that much respect."

The guard twitched. "Five minutes." And he left.

"I still can't believe you can do things like that," France whispered as soon as the guard was gone. "You have the ability to command people so well, so amazingly. You can't possibly be a woman."

"Oh, yes, I can," Joan shot back. "I was born a woman, most definitely."

France held his breath at the girl's powerful statement. Oh, how he lost all rational thought around her. How she had this hold on him.

Finally, he spoke again. "I'm scared."

"...Of what?"

"What do you mean 'of what'?" he snapped. "There's plenty to be afraid of! You're going to _die_, Joan! And you're not the least bit scared? You've been accused of _heresy!_"

"So what?" the girl groaned. "I did what I had to do, what God told me to do, and I don't regret it, any moment of it. Things would be so much worse if I didn't do all this. You'd probably be the one dying, France."

He wasn't sure of how to reply to that, so he didn't. "I'm scared of other things, too."

"Oh?"

"I'm afraid...of what will happen to me in the future. I...I'm afraid that...that I'm not going to be this great fighter forever. I'm afraid of...being weak."

At this confession, Joan rolled her eyes. "So what if your power as far as war goes becomes weak?" she asked matter-of-factly. "It's nothing you'll be able to control. I have a feeling that another nation will be the cause of that notion against you anyway."

France's eyes widened. "Joan, are you psychic?" he asked rather stupidly, but he was deadly serious.

Joan burst out laughing. "No way!" She continued to laugh for a few seconds, seriously amused, but her laughter soon died down to a manageable level of volume and intensity. She looked up at France sincerely and said, "I just know you. You weren't born to be a militarized nation. I know that you actually love art, food, and wine way more than you enjoy strategizing and preparing for war. That's the way you were born. You should be proud of that, France."

Small tears built up in the corners of France's eyes just as the guard returned to lead him out of the dungeon. As he walked, he looked back at Joan, who still had a calm, pleased smile on her face.

* * *

May 30, 1431.

France watched in complete and utter horror as Joan was tied to a pillar surrounded by dried branches and coals. She looked up towards the sky and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer as a peasant set a cross before her. After a moment, she smiled and lowered her confident gaze down to Geoffroy Therage, the executioner.

The man felt a shiver go down his spine as he stared into her eyes. "Joan of Arc, you have been convicted of heresy and sentenced to burn at the stake," he said shakily. "...Do you have any final words?"

At this question, Joan nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." She looked towards the crowd and breathed heavily for a few moments, still smiling. "I'm proud of who I am," she said. "I don't care if I truly am a witch or whatever. I am a creation of God, and God made me PERFECT! SO I LOVE MYSELF! I LOVE THE WAY I AM! And you all should love yourselves just as you are. If God only loves one kind of person, He wouldn't have made us all so different! SO LOVE YOURSELVES NO MATTER WHAT! I may be a witch, but I'm proud of it, because I WAS BORN THIS WAY!"

Fire.

* * *

It had taken a while, but World War II was finally over. France rose from the ashes of a nearly destroyed Paris and breathed a sigh of relief. The fighting, the bloodshed, and the pain were finally all over.

"I shouldn't be helping you out here," England muttered as he offered his hand to help his ally stand. "You were weak. You surrendered to Germany so quickly and barely helped us. It was your fault the Allies almost lost this war."

"Sticks and stones," France shot back, yanking his hand away from the other man's. "It wasn't my fault entirely. I'm not a military nation. I don't think I would have been much help even if I hadn't surrendered."

"So you admit to being weak!" England gasped. "How shameful!"

"I may be weak, but I am far more cultured and refined than you could ever hope to be, _Angleterre_."

"And you're fine with that?"

"'Fine with that?' Oh, _Angleterre_, I am far more than just fine with that. I love it!"

"What the...?"

"Because I was born this way."

_Don't be a drag; just be a queen._

_Whether you're broke or evergreen,_

_You're black, white, beige, Chola descent, you're Lebanese, you're Orient,_

_Whether life's disabilities left you outcast, bullied, or teased,_

_Rejoice and love yourself today,_

_'Cause, Baby, you were born this way._

END


	2. Track 2: Marry the Night

**Author's Note:** Is anyone here going to AnimeNEXT? I will be there as Norway at many of the Hetalia events. Please, if you see me, stop and say hello! (Check my DeviantART page to see me in my costume.)

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Marry the Night**

**I was born great.**

_Three Rules Every Nation Must Follow:_

_Rule 1: Always obey your leader._

_Rule 2: Always do what is best for the people. (Rule 2 takes priority over Rule 1. Rule 1 may be broken for the sake of, and only for the sake of, Rule 2.)_

_Rule 3: Never allow yourself to develop feelings for a human._

* * *

_A harsh scream echoed throughout the castle. No, scratch that, several harsh screams could be heard. Prussia looked up and in the direction of the cries. Oh yeah, there was no doubt as to who it was. Sighing and rolling his eyes, the albino picked himself up from his desk and headed down the hallways towards his king's room. Someone had to save that kid._

_Prussia didn't bother knocking. He simply opened the door, and a child ran out as fast as he possibly could. Prussia could see bruises and scratches covering the child's body along with fat tears running down his cheeks. He kept screaming even as he ran down the hallway to some unknown sanctuary._

_"WHY THE HELL DID YOU LET HIM GO?" came the booming voice of Prussia's (very) angry boss. "The damn kid keeping defying me. If I have to, I'll beat the sense into him! He needs to learn what it means to be Prussian, to be KING!"_

_And, with that, King Frederick William I grabbed his country, dragged him into the room, and proceeded to beat him instead._

* * *

_It took a few hours and some comfort from his wife, but the king finally managed to calm down and cease his beating of his country. Prussia breathed a sigh of relief and left the room before the man's temper could be inflamed again. Queen Sophia was a godsend, Prussia decided. He noticed that the woman smiled knowingly and waved to him as he left, as if she had planned to save her country from her husband's wrath. How she managed to put up with that man was beyond Prussia's comprehension._

_The albino walked down the hallways of the castle, back towards his own office, when he heard sniffling coming from outside. Confused, Prussia looked out the window and cocked an eyebrow. "It's been over two hours," he murmured. "The kid is STILL crying?" He headed for the nearest door to the outside and opened it slowly, as not to scare the child. He quietly walked towards the little boy and knelt down in front of him, smirking. "Crying isn't awesome."_

_The boy looked up and wiped the tears from his cheeks with his shirt sleeves. He remained silent, looking away from the albino, secretly hoping he would leave._

_Prussia just kept smirking. "That one isn't gonna work on me, kid. You should know that by now."_

_Still silent._

_"...If you don't speak up, I'll show you why that prissy aristocrat won't let me anywhere near his piano."_

_"DON'T DESTROY MY FLUTE!"_

_The boy slapped his hands over his mouth, and his eyes widened._

_Prussia laughed. "Works every time, kesesesesese!" With that, he sat down next to the boy on the bench. "So, little Frederick, like I said, crying isn't awesome. Real Prussians don't cry, and real kings in general don't cry."_

_Frederick glared in an attempt to look intimidating, but he just looked like a fussy child. Prussia found it adorable. "And my father? He cries all the time."_

_Prussia sighed. "Yeah, your old man's got issues. But, hey, at least he does his job well."_

_Frederick looked away. "Just 'issues,' huh?" he asked, obviously not buying it. "So I suppose him beating me repeatedly and rather harshly is just another one of his issues? Last time I checked, parents don't exactly abuse their children if they love them."_

_"Let's not talk about your old man," the albino muttered, honestly not wanting to talk about him. Yes, he respected and obeyed King Frederick William I, but it wasn't because he wanted to. If he has his way, he would have abandoned the volatile man a long time ago, but he was doing everything right for his country and his people. Therefore, Prussia had no choice but to obey him. It was times like that when Prussia wished his was human so that he wouldn't have to listen to his ruler if he didn't want to. He had met his fair share of Prussian people who did not like their king and did everything they could to defy him. Those people, Prussia decided, had some serious balls._

_That was one reason why, although he would never admit it, doted on little Frederick so much. The boy was next in line to take the throne, which meant that Prussia would have to obey him one day. However, the boy, just like all the other rulers Prussia had ever had, was human. That meant he did not have to directly follow in his father's footsteps. He could do what he wanted, within reason, of course. He was still royalty. Royalty didn't have much more freedom than nations did._

_"Good," Frederick muttered, "I don't want to talk about him either. I can't stand him." He tried to move and immediately winced in pain. Prussia, noticing this, moved closer to the boy._

_"Are you okay?" he asked. "Where does it hurt?" He gently pressed his hand against the boy's back. Frederick replied with a little yelp, and Prussia nodded. "Well, that answers that question. Hold still." He slowly lifted the boy's shirt to get a good look at his bare back and gasped. "Oh crap," he whispered, taking in the huge bruise. The king really did a number on the boy this time, while Prussia himself had escaped with a few minor injuries. He figured that the king had probably taken out the worst of his anger on his son before he showed up._

_"It's bad, isn't it?" the boy whispered as tears started falling again. "My head hurts, too, and everything is aching. My face is probably going to swell up."_

_"Hush, you'll be fine," Prussia murmured, setting the shirt back down. He stood and held out his arms. "I'll take you to one of the nurses." He knelt and smiled pleasantly, trying to cheer the boy up. Frederick kept crying and reached out towards his nation, gripping his coat tightly. Slowly and gently, Prussia carried him back into the castle and took him to a nurse._

_"I don't want to be a king."_

_Prussia rubbed the boy's back soothingly. "I'm afraid that you don't have much of a choice," he whispered, "but you can decide how you want to be when you grow up. No one said you had to be a total ass like your old man. Don't give up on your life, Frederick. You can live it passionately, however you want to."_

_It was all he wanted for his future king._

* * *

_Sadly, there are always bumps along the road._

_Frederick was not a particularly poorly-behaved teenager. He and his father had their differences, like all parents and children do, but theirs happened to be a bit bigger than the averaged set. Prussia honestly felt sorry for the kid. His father, as established, was quite psycho at times and often took his anger out on his son, even when it wasn't his fault, even when he had nothing to do with the situation. At one point, Frederick couldn't take it anymore and attempted to flee to Great Britain with his best friend Katte and several other junior officers. As soon as Prussia got word of that, he knew what was going to happen._

_Predictably enough, Frederick William lost his shit._

_When the boys had finally been found, Frederick William could only think of one thing: punishment. After all, royalty fleeing to another country was considered treason. The only question was the best way to do so. Death penalty? No, that would be difficult to justify, as it had only been one crime. (That was not to say that the king wasn't tempted. The thought of getting rid of this boy who had caused him so many headaches over the years was quite appealing.) Renouncing the throne to his brother? No, that would also be difficult to justify for this one crime. (Although this was also quite tempting to the king.)_

_And then, finally, he had it. He knew his son's weakness._

_So he forced the boy to watch the decapitation of Katte._

_Prussia's heart broke as soon as he heard the news. Poor Sophia came to him in tears at how unfair it was for her husband to treat her dear son in such a way. Prussia couldn't help but agree as he held the woman and let her cry. However, after a moment of tears, Sophia ordered the nation to see her son in prison. "He trusts you more than anyone else...well, now anyway..." She trailed off, realizing how awful that statement was. It was no secret that Frederick had trusted Katte more than anyone._

_So Prussia left for the prison that held his beloved future king. He couldn't even see the boy for two whole days though, because he was suffering from hallucinations and dreadful nightmares. "Well, no shit," the albino thought bitterly. "What would anyone expect?"_

_When Frederick finally calmed down, Prussia was allowed to see him. As soon as the teenager caught sight of him, he jumped up and wrapped his arms around him, wailing loudly. It took hours to calm him down further, but Prussia was in no hurry. Any time spent with Frederick was not time wasted._

_"They forced me to watch him die," he whispered. "They're monsters..."_

_Prussia nodded. "Human beings are the worst kind of monsters."_

_"I feel so empty," Frederick whispered, his grip on Prussia tightening. "I can't be a solder-king. I'm a solder of emptiness."_

_"Don't say that," the nation murmured, hugging the future king tighter. "It wasn't your fault. Your damn father can't see that. He's blinded by his love of violence."_

_Frederick immediately pulled away and glared at the albino, his blue eyes much more threatening than the red ones before him. "You are a vulgar hypocrite," he hissed. "You love war and violence. I see the way your face lights up every time we go to battle. I see how delighted you become when you hear of our enemies getting beat down. I know that the only thing you desire is to see Austria die a horrible death. You are, how shall I put this in terms you'd understand? You're a dick."_

_Prussia shut his eyes tightly and let the words sink in. The kid had a point. He did love war and fighting a lot, probably a lot more than he should. And, yes, he wanted nothing more than to see Austria suffer. But one thing bothered him. "Don't compare me to that asshole known as your father," he said sternly, staring right back at the teenager. "I'm not the one who beats your ass for no good reason."_

_After a tense moment, Frederick broke down again, sobbing into his nation's shirt and thoroughly soaking it, though Prussia didn't mind. "I'm...s-sorry," he whispered._

_Prussia just laughed. "It's all good. Don't cry for too long though, because crying isn't awesome, remember? Just listen to me." He took a deep breath and continued, "I don't get that philosophy and art and poetry and crap you like. Maybe, in that sense I am no better than your father. But that doesn't mean I think you should stop studying it, if that's what you really love. Though, I gotta say, I'm not exactly pleased that you like French more than German. But...whatever. That's none of my business. You just keep being you. Hell, I hope you delve so deep into that crap that it's like you're married to it. Just promise me that you'll keep being yourself. I don't want you to become your father."_

_"Don't insult me!" Frederick shouted into his chest. "I am a cultured, enlightened, refined gentleman! My father is a horrible man. He's...yes, that's it...HE'S A TOTAL DICK."_

* * *

_Frederick smiled at Prussia. "I'm King now."_

_The albino breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God."_

_The two laughed._

_"But things aren't perfect," the new king continued, the atmosphere immediately becoming more serious. "I have lots of plans for you."_

_"Oh?" Prussia asked, genuinely interested. "I want to hear."_

_Frederick smiled slightly from across his desk and looked at the map of Europe hanging on the wall. "I plan on uniting all of Prussia during my reign. I'm sick of all these little territories. If we want to modernize and have a sense of nationalism, we're going to need you, so to speak, in one piece. I plan on introducing some new social policies, too."_

_Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"_

_Frederick nodded. "Freedom of the press. Freedom of speech. Freedom of religion. Freedom to assemble. Everything. The people shall have the freedom to speak and live as they wish."_

_The albino started to protest but stopped when he saw the smile on his king's face. He shrugged and lifted his palms up towards the man. "Okay, I trust you. Whatever you want. Gotta admit, freedom sounds awesome." He grinned and relaxed. "Damn, you're separating yourself from your old man quickly."_

_"Please don't bring him up," the king deadpanned. "I finally don't have to listen to his nagging anymore, nor do I have to suffer his abuse. You know how long I have been waiting for this day."_

_"Since the freakin' day you were born! Damn, when you were a little brat, you used to scream your head off whenever that man came within ten meters of you!"_

_"And I am quite proud of that fact. I have good taste, yes?"_

_"You've got taste down...except for when it comes to, uh, that Frenchman."_

_Frederick groaned. "Please do no be such a brat yourself," he nearly begged. "Voltaire is a very good friend of mine. He makes better company than my wife."_

_Prussia rolled his eyes. "You're gonna die without an heir."_

_"Oh, be quiet," the king snapped, frowning angrily. "I just became your king, and you're already talking about my death? Spare me, Prussia. And spare Voltaire. You sound like you're jealous of the time I spend with him."_

_"CAN WE NOT TALK ABOUT HIM?" Prussia nearly screamed, causing Frederick to jump back in surprise. His eyes widened at the sudden outburst, and he snatched at the fabric covering his chest where his heart was. It was only after seeing this expression that Prussia realized what he said and his tone in which he had said it. "Um...sorry, that wasn't awesome."_

_"I should say not," Frederick exhaled as his surprised heartbeat started to return to normal. "My God, Prussia, that was the kind of thing I used to say whenever my father came up in conversation. How could you possibly put him on the same level as Voltaire?"_

_Prussia did not reply._

_Frederick, sensing that he wasn't going to an answer, continued talking about his plans. "If it's of any interest to you, I have a reason for us to attack Austria."_

_Prussia immediately straightened. "I'm listening."_

_Frederick almost laughed at how excited his nation had become. He knew what made him happy. He knew him too well. "It's his new leader. What was her name? Maria Theresa?"_

_"Oh yeah, that bitch," Prussia replied, speaking as if that was the highest title the woman deserved. "Didn't you offer to marry her once?"_

_Based on the look on Frederick's face, Prussia decided that that was the wrong thing to say._

_"Hmm," the king groaned, "she thinks she can rule Austria. Shall we show her otherwise?"_

_"Kesesesese," Prussia cackled, "awesome."_

_Frederick almost smiled. That wasn't Prussia's usual cackle. It was usually much more confident and arrogant. That cackle was unsure and somewhat fearful. Frederick didn't have to ask to know why, and it broke his heart._

_Jealousy._

* * *

_To do what one wanted was the greatest high possible. To be the person one wanted to be and to act upon one's own wishes was the best thing a person could ever accomplish. Frederick always knew that he would try to do these things, but he never dreamed he would accomplish them to the degree he did. There was nothing left for him to explore on the streets of his country, for he had done what he had always wanted to do. It was more than being different than his father. This went much deeper than that. It was about getting what he wanted while being the person he wanted to be._

_He got almost everything he had wanted._

_Almost._

_"I am such a sinner," he whispered to the night air, but then he cracked a smile. "I sort of like it." With that, he left his office, leaving the window wide open. The night was too beautiful to close out._

_He went looking for Prussia._

_After a few moments, he found his beloved nation in his bedchambers. "May I come in?" he asked._

_Prussia shrugged. "Don't see why not. What is it? Something you want to talk about?"_

_Frederick didn't reply. Instead, he just walked forward and hugged his nation tightly, lovingly, refusing to let go. The room was silent save for their breathing. Prussia was a bit too stunned to say much of anything._

_And then, Frederick moved away slightly. "Why is it that your heart beats?" he asked._

_Prussia found his voice. "Huh?"_

_"Your heart. It beats," the king repeated. He looked up. "Why is that? You are a nation and live for thousands of years, yet you are shaped like a human with a beating heart, a thinking mind, and a working body. Why is that, if the chances of you as a nation dying are slim to none? Why bother giving you all the characteristics of a human when you are not?"_

_Prussia wasn't quite so sure of how to reply. He looked away awkwardly and finally said, "Don't ask me. I know lots of crap, but that's one thing no nation knows."_

_"I was just wondering," the king murmured quietly. "Don't mind me. That's the philosophy study talking." He shrugged and rested his head on Prussia's shoulder. "Please don't be jealous of Voltaire."_

_The albino almost pushed the man away, but he was too stunned to do much of anything. "Where the hell did that come from?" he asked, honestly confused. They had not spoken about the Frenchman in quite some time, and to bring up the topic of jealousy so randomly...Hey, wait a second. "I'm not jealous of that un-awesome loser!" Prussia shouted. "Why the hell should I be jealous of him? He's not an awesome Prussian, and he's a man from France, not that France isn't awesome. That guy is my Bad Friend, but...oh God, I'm so confused."_

_"Don't be," Frederick whispered. He lifted his head and, without a warning, pressed his lips to Prussia's. The kiss only lasted a second, but it left Prussia breathless. "I don't want you to be confused. I want you to know that I love you."_

_Prussia was not sure how to react. His king had just kissed him. HIS KING HAD JUST KISSED HIM. Was that normal? He himself had kissed Frederick when he was a boy, but that was usually to make the pain of the bruises from his father's beatings go away. And he had memories of a young Frederick kissing his cheek out of childlike love. This was not that, neither of those._

_His king was in love with him._

_"Well...duh, you do," he replied hesitantly, attempting to brush the words off as nothing. "You said so yourself. 'I am the First Servant of my State.' So, OF COURSE, you love me! Kesesese!" He laughed arrogantly in an attempt to lift the mood, but he quickly realized that his king was being deadly serious. He looked down at the man with wide, scared eyes. He didn't know how to handle this. This...it was far too much._

_"I love you," Frederick repeated._

_And Prussia realized that there was only one proper, true response he could say._

_"I love you, too."_

_In that moment, all of the jealousy and the fear and the uneasy feelings of being unsure disappeared. Frederick was a man of his word. He didn't say things without meaning them. Prussia, while he was one to exaggerate, never said anything he didn't believe._

_They moved quickly to Frederick's bedchambers, where they knew no one would dare to go without permission from the king himself. Frederick opened the windows in his room and let the night air burst forward. It was cool but not cold, a good night to stay awake. No sooner had he done so, Prussia grabbed him and kissed him forcefully. Finally. He had wanted to do that for so long. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him that he was breaking a rule, the most important rule with the worst consequences. But he ignored it. He didn't care anymore. Screw the rules. Love was the new war. He suddenly realized that he was happier kissing his king than he ever was watching Austria suffer._

_They fell backwards onto the bed, panting and flushed. "Don't go too crazy," Frederick whispered. "Don't poke any holes into the sheets with your fingernails. This is where we make love."_

_And they married on that night._

* * *

_It wasn't until August 17, 1786, when Prussia finally realized why that third rule was the worst one to break, why it was the most important, and why it had the worst consequences._

_Frederick II, Frederick the Great, Old Fritz, his beloved King of Prussia, died that day._

_And Prussia remained the same young man he always was and always would be, never dying, his heart still beating, even though it was not meant to._

* * *

Prussia snapped out of his daydream and looked outside. Nighttime. Of course. It wasn't snowing, thank God. That was a welcome change on this cold day in November.

Quietly, he placed the bottle on the silver tray and walked towards the office. The door was open, and a strange tension emerged from it. The breath caught in Prussia's throat. Something was off tonight.

_I hate nights,_ he thought bitterly. Just before he made it to the door, another thought struck him. _Where is Ukraine?_

"WHY ARE EAST GERMANS DEMANDING TO CROSS THE WALL?"

_Crash! Splash!_

Russia looked up and stared into red, horrified eyes. Prussia had dropped the bottle of vodka in shock, and, for a moment, he couldn't comprehend what he had just heard. He stared at Russia, too scared to move.

But then he did.

He ran outside to his freedom.

And married the night all over again.

_I'm gonna marry the night._

_I'm gonna marry the night._

_Gonna marry the night._

_I'm gonna marry the night._

_I'm not gonna cry anymore._

_I'm gonna marry the night._

_Leave nothing on these streets to explore._

_Ma-ma-ma-marry, ma-ma-ma-marry the night._

END


	3. Track 3: Government Hooker

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Government Hooker**

**I was born a world power.**

America adjusted his tie and glared at his reflection. He was dressed in his best suit and had been made over entirely by his boss's wife. His hair had been washed and combed, and Nantucket was actually behaving for once. Texas had been cleaned and was now sitting on his nose, perfectly balanced. His shoes had been shined, and all the little accessories on his suit had been cleaned and adjusted. With the First Lady's approval, he was ready to go. She smiled kindly at him and returned to her husband, who, in America's opinion, always looked put together. He smiled at his wife and then looked back at the nation. "Are you ready for the meeting?" he asked.

No. No, America was _not_ ready for this meeting. Far from it. He didn't want to have a meeting with China and his boss. He didn't want to face them nor did he even want to acknowledge the fact that they were in his country. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was bitter, thinking that he couldn't be the one to go to China because of his debt and less than perfect economy. It was made even worse by the fact that China was the one owning a large portion of that debt.

That made America think about his appearance. Was it okay to look like he was filthy rich and frivolously spending money on suits and makeovers when his debt was so big? How would that look to China? He wanted to know, but another part of him did not. He liked things better when he had no debt. Yeah, that had been a great time...once.

Now he was in one hell a mess. No, he was in _several_ hells of _multiple_ messes.

But everything else wasn't important right now. One at a time, he had to keep reminding himself. He wasn't going to solve all his problems at the same time. One at a time.

...One at a time took way too long.

America looked up at his boss and sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am," he finally agreed, walking towards the door. The President nodded and headed out with his wife and several Secret Service officers. The group walked down a few long hallways before making it to the meeting room. China and his boss were waiting for them inside.

After the formalities, the First Lady left the room to allow the leaders and their nations to speak. America suddenly felt uncomfortable, more than he had so while getting ready. His boss and China's boss began to speak, with the help of the translator in the room when needed. The two spoke as if they were friends just trying to work out a few differences. Every now and then, the President asked for America's opinion, which he grudgingly gave. However, he wasn't his usual self. Even his boss noticed that he was as energetic and optimistic as he usually was. Usually, no matter what, America was always eager and happy to talk about issues with other nations and their bosses. Something about China bothered him.

He first noticed that China's boss never asked him to contribute to the conversation. Instead, he simply asked if China agreed, and, every time, the nation replied, "Yes, I do."

It didn't sit well with America, who was used to his fellow nations offering their opinions and adding something to the conversation. Even Japan, who was often reserved about speaking up, at least added his own ideas to other people's opinions, even if he did so very politely. Japan often agreed with everything other nations said, but there was something about the way China was speaking that bothered America.

...Was he _allowed_ to speak?

America immediately forgot the conversation and focused all of his energy on China, focusing on the man as if his life depended on it. China kept smiling and nodding, happily agreeing with his boss, never commenting on America's boss's words. That set off another string of thought in America's mind. The smiling, the agreeing, the..._fraud_. He sensed fraud. That was it. It was all an act.

Suddenly, America remembered where he had seen this before.

Talks with Russia.

When he was the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

_Communists._

The rage America suddenly felt bubbling up inside him was indescribable. It burned in the pit of his stomach and spread throughout the rest of his body. His muscles felt hot, and his skin began to tingle. Nantucket started to misbehave, and Texas began to slip on his nose.

"I want to hear what China has to say," he suddenly announced, cutting his boss off mid-sentence. He didn't even know what the conversation was about anymore. What were they planning on talking about again? It didn't matter. None of it did. The only thing that mattered was China's answer.

China's eyes widened a bit as he looked at America, somewhat surprised and somewhat curious. He bit his lip and looked away for a moment, then back at his boss. The man nodded and motioned for the nation to speak.

That was the only answer America needed.

"I CAN'T PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT!" he suddenly screamed, jumping up from his seat and glaring down at China. "I asked for YOUR opinion, not PERMISSION from your boss to SPEAK! You're in my country. WE PRACTICE FREEDOM OF SPEECH HERE!"

"America, calm down!" the President urged, tugging on the nation's suit sleeve. "Sit down. We need to talk about this like rational human beings."

America glared daggers at his boss. "I'm not going to talk like a human being with someone I don't consider human."

"America!"

"YOU HEARD WHAT I SAID!" He glared back at China, who was too stunned to speak. His boss started calling out what America perceived as orders in Chinese. China looked back at his boss and nodded, standing. Before he could move away, America grabbed his sleeve. "Don't run away from me!" he ordered. "I know you can understand me, you stupid Commie. You haven't been THAT brainwashed...yet!"

"...What the heck are you talking about, aru?" China finally managed to ask. He glanced down at the America's tough grip on his own suit sleeve and then back up at the nation. He wasn't sure what else to say. He hadn't seen America this angry since the Cold War.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" America shouted. "That Commie government you have is CONTROLLING YOUR LIFE, and you're doing nothing to FIGHT FOR YOUR FREEDOM! You make me SICK!"

"You honestly think that I-!"

"YOU'RE A GOVERNMENT HOOKER!" America finally screamed, right in China's face. "You're nothing but a GOVERNMENT SLUT who will do ANYTHING the Commies tell you to!"

As soon as the words left America's mouth, the room fell deadly silent. The two leaders stared at the nations, not believing what they had heard. The translator's jaw dropped, and she realized that she wasn't needed to translate that last line. The officers exchanged nervous glances but kept their eyes on the President to make sure nothing happened to him. China's eyes were wide, and his face was pale. His fingers shook slightly, and his body suddenly felt weak. He stared at America, who did not regret his words. Why regret your words if they spoke the truth? That was how he justified the words in his mind.

Suddenly, China's boss stood. He said something in Chinese and turned, heading towards the door. The translator didn't bother. That message was just as loud and clear as America's outburst. China, seeing his boss, gently pulled his sleeve away from America's grip, looked the blond in the eyes one last time, turned, and left alongside his boss.

As soon as the two were gone, the room went quiet again. America glared at the door through which they had left and growled harshly. They deserved it. Of course they did. They were Communists. Communists were evil. All of them. Nothing else mattered. They couldn't be good people if they believed in Communism. The two didn't go together.

Movement caught America's eye. He looked down at his boss, who was shaking his head sadly. The man looked up and said, "Really? _Really?_ You just _had_ to say that?"

"It's their own damn fault!" America defended. "They're Communists!"

The President narrowed his eyes. "And we're trying to be friends and coexist peacefully."

"I DON'T WANT TO COEXIST WITH COMMIES!"

"Dammit!" the President groaned, falling back against his chair. "Dammit, America, just get out of here. Thank God the journalists aren't here. I just pray no one will catch wind of this. This could turn into a scandal. You honestly couldn't keep your thoughts to yourself?"

America glared at his boss. "And refuse myself my right to freedom of speech?"

"Just because you can say something doesn't always mean you should."

America threw his hands up in the air. "This is bullshit! I'm leaving." He stormed out of the meeting room and slammed the door behind him. "DON'T BOTHER LOOKING FOR ME!"

* * *

A three hour-long train ride later, America was in New York City. He had changed out of his suit and was dressed in a pair of faded jeans, old sneakers, and a sweatshirt with a growing hole in the bottom. Much better. These were his favorite kinds of clothes, not those stuffy business suits. And New York was a great place to go when he wanted to be alone. There were so many people that he just faded into the background as another member of the masses. No one knew his name. He wasn't important. He suddenly wondered if anyone noticed him specifically on these streets. Most likely not. There were so many people walking and running in so many different directions that it was impossible to single out anyone. He was nobody. It was comforting.

He started to think about his favorite superheroes. They were nobodies, too. When they weren't heroes, they were average people. Some of them were successful and powerful even as their ordinary human selves. Some of them were weak and mild-mannered. Either way, there were people who didn't know them and did not particularly care for them.

But, as soon as they transformed, everyone knew them, both the good and the bad.

America suddenly felt sick. He didn't want to be a superhero right now. He had already been a supervillain. That was enough for one day.

Yes, the great United States of America was feeling guilty about what he had said, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. He was too proud for that.

"...America?"

The blond looked ahead and saw him. China was standing right in front of him. The two were surrounded by huge crowds of people, many of whom cursed at them for blocking traffic. But they didn't care. China still looked hurt. America was stunned.

He found him. He found him in this huge, lonely city.

* * *

Somehow, the two ended up at a little tea house in Midtown West. America sipped at his sweet tea while China elegantly lifted the cup of hot green tea to his lips. Aside from their slurping noises, they were silent, ignoring the other customers chatting and laughing amongst each other. It was awkward. America wanted to talk, but he didn't know what to say.

"I've never tasted sweet tea before, aru," China finally said, placing the tea cup down. "May I try it?"

America looked up and moved away from his glass a bit. "Yeah, here," he agreed, pushing the tall glass over towards the other so he could try it. China took another straw from the dispenser on the table and placed it in the drink, taking a small sip.

When he pulled away, he swallowed. "...I'm not sure how I feel about it, aru."

"That's because you didn't try enough of it," America offered. "Take a big sip. I don't mind."

China looked up at America as if he were trying to make sure that it really was okay and then took a large gulp from the glass. He swallowed the drink and exhaled, smiling slightly. "It really is sweet," he commented. "I like it."

"It's not as good as the stuff you get in the South," America explained, taking his drink back. "The folks there know how to make this stuff the best. That's where it came from after all. But this is kind close to the real thing."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Um," America finally murmured, "I'm...I..."

China closed his eyes. "I wish you would try to figure things out before jumping to conclusions," he sighed. "I was really offended. You don't know anything about my country or my history or my culture or my government, aru. You're too young to know anything really."

America went to speak but then stopped short. No, that was the wrong thing to say. He couldn't try to defend his words anymore. "What I said was wrong," he admitted. "For that, I'm sorry. I really am."

"I believe you, aru."

"But you have to understand something, too," he continued. "I don't like Communist governments. I don't like anything except democracy and Capitalism. If you want to blame anyone for that, blame my old boss."

"Reagan, right?" China asked casually. "Yes, I remember him. I understand that. As nations, all of our bosses leave a legacy with us and influence us somehow. Even my first rulers still have an impact on me today, aru." He paused and took another sip of his hot tea. "But I want you to realize that I have reasons for acting the way I do, aru. And I also want you to realize that I do not know everything my boss knows."

The thought was horrifying to America. He had never had a boss that kept secrets from him, not when it came to his country and his people. Part of the agreement he had always had with his bosses was that the two would share their thoughts and plans with each other at all times, keeping nothing from each other. To America, it was a way to bond with his boss and to keep up his freedom rights. To be kept in the dark..to not be _trusted_...the thought was simply horrifying.

"Ever since the beginning," he said, "my bosses and I have shared everything with each other. It was a way for us to build up strength. I had won the war against England, but that didn't mean that I was strong. I practically needed the rest of Europe to help me out."

China nodded. "Try being strong from the very beginning," he offered. "It's not easy, aru. Once you're strong, people expect you to stay that strong. The fact that I didn't was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me."

America would be lying if he said that he didn't know what China was talking about. He had heard about the fall of China's last dynasty and the rise of the war-torn times along with the rise of the Communist party after the country was left in ruins after World War II. It had all happened so fast. The Qing Dynasty fell in 1911, and things only kept going downhill from there.

"It was only because of the Communist party that I gained any strength back," China continued, not meeting America's gaze. "I didn't want to be a Communist, really. But it was the lesser of two evils, aru. I could either put my people through more suffering or accept the new government."

The breath caught in America's throat. _She_ had said the same exact thing when he had visited her a few weeks before Christmas. _She_ and China had experienced the same thing.

Which meant that, during his civil war, China had had a doppelgänger.

America suddenly felt horrible. He could get along with Vietnam. Why couldn't he get along with China? Oh yeah, the debt, he remembered. What happened between him and Vietnam was long over. What was happening between him and China was still going on with no signs of stopping soon.

"That's why I do whatever my boss tells me to do," China continued. "The first rule of being a nation is to always obey the boss, right? The second is to do what is best for the people, aru. The people are _happy_. They are proud to be Chinese. To see that...oh, it's the greatest feeling ever, aru. That's why I'll do whatever my boss tells me to do, no matter what. That's why I'll always be..."

"I'm a government hooker, too."

China looked up. "What?"

America swallowed hard. "I'm always trying to please the people. I work to do whatever they want me to do. I'm a government hooker, too. We all are. Every single one of us nations...is a government hooker. We have no other choice."

China smiled awkwardly. "I can be good, I can be bad. I can be cool, I can be mad. I can be anything and everything my boss wants me to be, aru."

"Me, too."

"And I drink my tears and cry."

"...I do, too, sometimes."

It was quiet for another moment until America spoke up again. "Can you tell me about yourself?" he asked. "About your language and culture and history and...yeah, all that stuff?" He looked at China meaningfully, hoping the other nation would agree.

China snorted playfully. "It's gonna take a while."

"I've got time."

"And we're almost done with our tea."

"We can buy more."

China smiled appreciatively. "Okay, it started four thousand years ago..."

* * *

A few days later, America and his boss were preparing for another meeting with China and his boss. The President kept a weary eye on the nation, unsure of how he would react. Thankfully, the press and news networks had not heard about the incident, leaving the White House scandal-free. Still, he was nervous. After that last blow up, there was no telling what could happen.

"Don't worry, Mr. President," America said as he adjusted his tie, speaking as if he had read the man's mind. "I promise that there will be no explosions this time. It's so not heroic."

The President smirked. "You better keep that promise. If you don't, you're buying next time we go out to eat."

"Open up your wallet, Dude. I'm getting the extra large burger."

The two chuckled slightly and then saw the First Lady motion towards the door. America and his President nodded, heading down the hallway towards the meeting room. They opened the door to meet with China and his boss.

"Back up and turn around," America mouthed silently.

"Put your hands on the ground," China mouthed back.

Two hookers and their governments.

All was right with the world.

_Hoo-ooookaaaaaaaa-er._

_Yeah, you're my hooker._

_Hoo-ooookaaaaaaaa-er._

_Government hooker._

_Hoo-ooookaaaaaaaa-er._

_Yeah, you're my hooker._

_Hoo-ooookaaaaaaaa-er._

_Government hooker._

_I'm gonna drink my tears tonight._

_I'm gonna drink my tears and cry._

_'Cuz I know you love me, baby._

_I know you love me, baby._

END


	4. Track 4: Judas

**Author's Note:** Welcome back to Gakuen Hetalia! I realize that a lot of you probably already read this track when I released it as a single, but I edited it a bit and added an omake at the end. Enjoy!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Judas**

**I was born a lover.**

_Motorcycles flying down the street._

_A funeral._

_Two funerals._

_Two toddlers' eyes locked._

_"...Go inside with your brother, Feliciano."_

_"Grandpa?"_

_A set of red eyes stared at Feliciano and then looked back._

_Blue eyes._

"Rome?"

Grandpa Rome turned to see Germania standing behind him. The man was frowning, as usual, but his expression had a tinge of concern to it. Rome looked down to the wooden floor blankly and then looked back up to his friend.

"I'm fine," he said, "I was just lost in thought."

Germania raised an eyebrow. "'Lost in thought?' That's strange for you."

"Look, I know it's rare, but it does happen to me sometimes."

Germania rolled his eyes, but he seemed satisfied nonetheless. "Then I think you should get out on stage and welcome the students." He turned his friend back around and pushed him onto the main stage, heaving a great sigh backstage.

Rome quickly recovered from the push and mentally reminded himself to kick Germania's ass sometime in the near future. Smiling wide, he waved to the crowd of students as they applauded him.

"Thank you!" he said into the microphone. "Thank you very much! All you upper-level students already know me, and you first-year students can call me 'Grandpa Rome.' I am one of Hetalia Academy's vice principals. Principal Himaruya could, sadly, not be here today, so I am going to be giving the welcoming speech. So...I welcome you! Ha!"

Germania face-palmed.

"Anyway," Rome continued, "I think that this will be a fantastic year for our school. Not only does the incoming class look great, but we will all be welcoming two new teachers, who will be leading two new programs! I'd like to introduce Ms. Karpusi, from Athens, Greece." Rome motioned towards the woman who walked out onto the stage. "Ms. Karpusi is one of the most influential, well-known philosophers in her home country, and she will be teaching an intro class on philosophy! Actually, her son, Heracles Karpusi, is a former student of Hetalia Academy and will be her assistant teacher for the year.

"The other new teacher is Ms. Hassan, who has written several books on mythology." Another woman walked out onto the stage and joined Ms. Karpusi. "She hails from Cairo, Egypt, and will be teaching an intro class on mythology. Her son, Gupta Muhammad Hassan, is also a graduate of Hetalia Academy and will be joining her as her student teacher. Let's give them both a round of applause!"

Rome smiled as the students clapped for the new teachers and saw that the two women seemed to be especially happy to be there. Yes, this was definitely going to be a good year.

"Speaking of student teachers," Rome continued, cutting off the applause, "several of our former students will be returning to the academy as student teachers as part of a new program Hetalia Academy has founded. Former students now in college come back to the academy as teachers for real-world experience and college credit. So many of you upper-level students will be seeing some of your old friends walking around campus!" A few excited murmurs could be heard among the audience.

"So let's have a great year, okay?" Rome laughed as he finished his speech. "Here at Hetalia Academy, we aim for academic excellence, but we also like to have a lot of fun. Good luck to all of you, especially our first-year students and our seniors. You all have your schedules, and first period is about to begin! Have fun, study hard, and do your best, everyone!"

The students applauded once again and began to file out of the auditorium. Ms. Karpusi and Ms. Hassan thanked Rome for the introductions and left the stage for their classrooms. Rome then exited the stage on the opposite side and joined up with Germania.

"That was a pretty good speech," the German sighed. "Now it's back to the office."

Rome frowned. "Aw, I wanted to go out and spend some time with the kids."

"You just said that they have class, you idiot."

"...The first day doesn't matter so much."

"You're hopeless."

Germania yanked the Italian by his hair and dragged him out to the hallway, back to their office. Once there, he set the man down at his desk and sat in his own, ready to get a head start on the work already needing to be done.

Rome just continued whining. "You never let me have any fun."

Germania stayed silent, the only sound heard being the clicking of the computer keys.

Rome rolled his eyes and groaned. He felt like one of the students; he wasn't ready for the school year to start. Summer wasn't long enough.

But then he smiled. "Well, it'll still be a great year."

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, there was a scream. "GRANDPA! GRANDPA!"

"Feliciano?"

"Was that Feliciano?" Germania asked, turning to the other man. "He sounded upset."

"GRANDPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The office door slammed open, and there stood Feliciano. A sobbing, sweating, coughing, shaking, pink-cheeked, glazed-eyed Feliciano. For a moment, all stood still in the office, but Feliciano kept crying. Then, instantly, he jumped forward and grabbed his grandfather, wrapping his arms and legs as tightly around him as he possibly could. Rome was stunned at first. It wasn't so odd to find Feliciano crying or looking for attention, but this was a bit extreme.

...Very extreme.

"Feliciano!" the grandfather finally managed to say. "Feli, darling, what is it? What made you cry?" He wrapped his own arms around his grandson, hoping to calm him but to no avail. Feliciano kept crying for a few good minutes, and anything he tried to say became lost in the sobs. Even Germania couldn't help but be a little concerned.

Finally, the little Italian calmed down enough that he could be understood well enough. "Grandpa!" he coughed. "Grandpa...I...I-I...d-don't know what I..._hic!_...did wrong!"

"Feli, what are you talking about?" Rome asked cautiously, not wanting to upset his little grandson further. Whatever this was had to be a big deal.

Feliciano pulled away from his grandfather and looked him in the eye. Tears continued to stream down his face, but he said the next sentence loud and clear.

"LUDWIG BROKE UP WITH ME!"

The world seemed to stop spinning. Rome and Germania stared at the boy as he broke down once again, burying his face into his grandfather's shoulder and sobbing his eyes out. Rome was completely frozen and couldn't even try to comfort his grandson. He shakily looked towards Germania, who was just as stunned. Germania tried to stay out of his grandsons' lives as much as he could, but even he knew that Ludwig was head over heels in love with Feliciano. That was a fact that the whole school knew.

But now...all of a sudden, he wasn't?

"What the hell is wrong with that boy?" Germania finally asked, his eyes narrowing and turning steely. He rose from his office chair and opened the office door. Sure enough, his youngest grandson was walking down the hallway to his first class. "Ludwig Beilschmidt!" he shouted. "Get in here! You have a lot of explaining to do!"

Ludwig looked at his grandfather for a moment, raised an eyebrow, and kept walking, completely ignoring the man's order. "I don't have to explain anything to you," he said.

"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"

"What does it matter to you anyway?" Ludwig asked. "It's not like I hurt Feliciano. I just broke up with him. I don't love him anymore."

Feliciano wailed even louder.

Germania's face turned red with anger. "You seriously think you didn't hurt him?" he asked through gritted teeth. "There are many different definitions for the word 'hurt,' Ludwig."

The boy just shrugged and kept walking. "He'll get over it."

Germania was so flabbergasted at his grandson's reasoning that he couldn't even find the words to continue scolding him. It wasn't like it mattered though, because Ludwig was already out of sight. Finally regaining his senses, Germania walked back into the office and stared at Feliciano, who was still a sobbing mess in his grandfather's arms. Said grandfather wasn't having a lot of luck comforting him.

"Shhhh, shhhhh, Feli," Rome hushed quietly, wrapping one arm around the boy and the other around his upper back. He tried rubbing his hands against the boy's back in an attempt to calm him down. "It's okay, Feli," he whispered. "It'll all be okay."

"No, i-it won't!" Feliciano cried out, gripping his grandfather's suit jacket for dear life. "It'll never be okay! I-I love Ludwig s-so much! And w-we LIVE TOGETHER! I have to s-see h-him EVERY DAY!"

Germania nearly gasped. "This makes no sense," he muttered. "Feliciano and Ludwig do live together in one of the small houses the academy owns and rents to students. If Ludwig knew he was going to be living with you, Feliciano, why would he break off the relationship so suddenly? That makes no sense at all..."

Feliciano turned to the German man, still clutching onto his grandfather. "Ludwig j-just woke up this morning and s-said that h-he didn't l-love me anymore. He said t-that it would b-be better if we weren't together..."

Germania shut his eyes in annoyance. Leave it to his youngest grandson to be blunt and tactless in every situation.

The little Italian turned back to Rome, tears still rolling down his face. "Grandpa..."

"We'll figure this out somehow, Feli, I promise," Rome whispered into his grandson's ear. "I'll help you however I can. But..." He started to hate himself for what he was about to say. "...I can't let you stay here, and I can't let you go home either. You have to go to class, okay?"

Feliciano hiccuped. "I don't want to."

"I know you don't, but you have to. What's your first period this year?"

"...Music."

"You like music class, right? I hear Roderich Edelstein is student teaching all the music classes this year. You like Roderich, right? He was so nice to you when you were a new student here."

Feliciano nodded and almost smiled fondly at the memories.

"Then you should go and see Roderich at the very least," Rome murmured, setting his grandson down so he could stand. He put his large hands on his grandson's shoulders in one last attempt to comfort him. "Try not to think about what happened this morning, okay? Germania and I will try to figure all this out."

Feliciano nodded through tears.

"Good boy. Now go clean yourself up and go to class, okay? I'll come get you at the end of the day, and you can stay in my apartment for the time being."

Hesitantly, Feliciano nodded again. "Okay," he agreed quietly, wiping away the remaining tears on his face with his uniform sleeve. Without another word, he walked out of the office and headed for the men's room down the hall.

As soon as the boy was gone, Rome let out a huge sigh and nearly collapsed in his chair. "For the love of Spartacus," he muttered, "this is NOT how I wanted the school year to begin."

"That boy is in so much trouble next time I see him," Germania growled, sitting back down in his office chair. "What in the world could have made him act this way? I KNOW that he's in love with Feliciano. I don't understand why he would break up with him on the first day of the school year when the two will be LIVING TOGETHER throughout this entire year! It doesn't make any sense! And, by God, if Gilbert finds out about this..."

"I don't even want to think about that!" Rome interrupted, his voice alarmed and worried. "I love your oldest grandson to pieces, Germania, but he does NOT need to know about this!"

"...We'll see how long it stays a secret."

"...Shit."

The two sat in silence.

"I'm a terrible guardian."

Germania looked up at the other man. "What?"

Rome frowned. "I don't understand why my daughter and her husband left the boys to me," he explained. "We have other relatives. Why did they pick me? I can't do anything for either one of the boys..."

Germania sighed. "Don't say that. If your daughter and her husband were still alive, they would be facing the same problems...just like if my daughter and son-in-law were still alive." He looked away sadly.

Rome looked towards his friend. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, it's alright. It just still hurts."

"I think it always will...for all of us."

Silence.

"Raising two boys at our ages isn't easy," Rome suddenly sighed, "especially since we both raised them from when they were really young. But I'm almost happy they were so young. They don't remember the tragedy."

* * *

Roderich's first lesson was on an Italian composer, but Feliciano couldn't pay attention.

_I was there for him whenever he needed me,_ he thought. _I would do anything for him. I'd wash his feet with my hair if he needed it. I forgave him for all his mistakes. I did so much for him...but he broke up with me. Why? Does Ludwig really not love me anymore? I didn't think it was possible..._

_This is like that time...so long ago._

_I told him that I loved him, and he told me that he loved me, too. We agreed to meet one last time before he had to go home, but he never showed up. He betrayed me...just like Ludwig did. I've been betrayed three times. I hate him so much for leaving me, but I'm still in love with him. Is this punishment for being with someone when I'm still in love with someone else?_

_...It's like I'm in love with Judas. _

Feliciano was so lost in thought that his blank expression was even distracting Roderich. The Austrian was used to Feliciano being lost in thought, but that usually involved a goofy expression and lots of talk of pasta. This was definitely not Feliciano's usual distracted self.

Roderich was just about to say something when the bell rang, signaling the end of the first class. The students grabbed their bags and filed out of the classroom, but Feliciano stayed in his seat as if he hadn't heard the bell. Roderich, noticing this, tried to approach the little Italian.

"Felici-!"

"HEY, SPECS, MY FIRST CLASS WAS SO MUCH MORE AWESOME THAN YOURS!"

Out of nowhere, Gilbert burst through the classroom door and shouted at the top of his lungs, snapping Feliciano out of his trance. The German laughed obnoxiously and slapped Roderich on the back. "So? SO? The first-years are SO FREAKIN' EXCITED to learn German with me! I bet that all YOUR students were NOWHERE near as excited as mine were. Kesesesesesese!"

"Just when I thought I had finally gotten rid of you," the Austrian muttered, pushing the German away. "Please, Gilbert, give us a few moments of peace. I want to talk to Feliciano."

"FELI!" Gilbert nearly squealed, rushing towards the little Italian and scooping him up into a hug. "Oh man, Feli, it is AWESOME to see you! Summer vacation was WAY too long. I missed you too much!" He squeezed the little Italian again and then let him go, placing his hands on his hips and grinning. "So? You get some first day of school sex from my little bro?"

That did it. Feliciano burst into tears and pushed Gilbert away so he backed up into Roderich. Wailing loudly, Feliciano buried his face into his palms and curled up in his chair. "Shut up!" he cried. "I hate your brother!"

Gilbert and Roderich blinked. Once. Twice.

"WHAT?" they both shouted.

"LUDWIG BROKE UP WITH ME!"

The two Germanics stared at Feliciano, not believing their ears. "West...did WHAT?" Gilbert gasped, thankful that he was leaning on Roderich, or else he would have fallen over. Roderich stayed quiet, unable to comprehend what he had heard.

"Impossible..."

Suddenly, Gilbert looked towards the classroom door and saw his brother pass by. Ludwig stopped for a moment and looked up but didn't say anything. He just shrugged and kept walking.

After a tense moment of silence, without thinking, Gilbert raced out of the classroom and grabbed his little brother's shoulders. Ludwig, not having time to react, soon found himself up against the wall. "What the hell!"

"YOU BROKE FELI'S HEART!" Gilbert nearly screamed, slamming his brother against a row of lockers. "WHY THE HELL DID YOU BREAK UP WITH HIM, YOU JACKASS?"

"That's none of your business!" Ludwig shouted back, pushing Gilbert away. "It was MY relationship to end. I can do whatever the hell I want with my relationships!"

"You can't do that if you're MESSING WITH PEOPLE'S HEARTS!" Gilbert grabbed his brother by his uniform jacket. "I don't like this, West. I DON'T LIKE IT AT ALL! I don't like what I heard!"

Ludwig frowned angrily. "Then wear an ear condom next time."

Gilbert's eyes widened in rage. Somewhere in the background, he could still hear Feliciano sobbing. That mixed with the uncaring tone of Ludwig's voice was too much.

He snapped.

Without thinking, Gilbert slammed his brother against the lockers again, this time with all his might. He aimed to land a punch in Ludwig's face but missed when his brother twisted away at the last second. Then, out of nowhere, Ludwig raised his fist and punched Gilbert in the head with so much force the older brother's upper half seemed to twist all the way around painfully. In a second, Gilbert was on the floor, a good ten feet away from Ludwig. Feliciano and Roderich both gasped and ran out of the classroom to Gilbert's side. It took a moment, but Gilbert was able to pick himself up, though he seemed to be in a lot of pain. Feliciano gasped at the huge, red mark on the side of the man's head.

Roderich stared at the young German. "How could you?"

Ludwig, wide-eyed and panting, ran from the scene to his next class.

* * *

"I can't believe Ludwig did this," Germania gasped when he saw his oldest grandson's injury. "What the hell is that boy thinking? What the hell is going on with him?"

Gilbert scowled. "He's just an asshole, plain and simple. An un-awesome asshole." He flinched slightly as the school nurse placed a few bandages over the wound and then taped an ice pack to his head.

Roderich frowned. "I feel as though I have missed something. What exactly happened here?"

Germania was about to speak when he noticed something. "Where is Feliciano?"

* * *

Screw the rest of the day. After all that, Feliciano couldn't stay. He sat in his room in the house he and Ludwig shared, suddenly realizing that he would have to sleep alone in his own bed. Quietly, he reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope. Slowly, he opened it and pulled out a letter. He couldn't stop the tears as he unfolded the letter and began to read.

_To my future self:_

_He betrayed you a long time ago. Please do not be angry with him. He left you, which means that he's not good for you. Don't stay in love with him. Find someone else._

_Love,_

_Chibitalia_

_"Little Feliciano"_

Feliciano dropped the letter and looked away.

"I'm sorry, little me..."

_Sob._

"I'm just a Holy fool. I tried to find a new person. I tried to find my Jesus."

...

"I'm just in love with another Judas."

OMAKE

"Dammit!" Gilbert swore as he peeled the bandage off in the boys' bathroom later that day. Luckily, the school nurse had applied the bandage and given him an ice pack early enough that the wound had not swelled up or gotten any worse. It was still bright red though, and Gilbert made a mental note to apply another bandage when he got back to his apartment.

Sighing angrily, the albino walked out of the bathroom and headed for the stairs leading to the lower level of the school. Located on the basement level were many club meeting rooms as well as general meeting areas for students. Gilbert walked into the first one he saw and was greeted with gasps from his old friends.

"What happened to you?" Francis asked, his eyes wide. Antonio got up from his seat to get a closer look at the wound but sat back down when Gilbert turned away.

Elizaveta frowned sadly. "Gilbert?"

"West did this."

The Hungarian gasped and turned to Roderich, who was sitting next her and nodding. "Indeed. I saw him do it. The two got into a fight, and Ludwig punched Gilbert in the head. Gilbert was knocked back about ten feet and had a hard time getting up for a few moments."

"Why would Ludwig-san do that?" Kiku asked, his voice breathy and disbelieving. Ludwig was one of his very good friends along with Feliciano. While the German was known for being physically strong and having a bad temper, Kiku had never seen him physically hurt somebody on purpose.

Gilbert sat down in his own chair and closed his eyes lightly. "I have some sad news," he announced. "Prepare yourselves for this one. It's not awesome."

The group did so and waited with baited breath.

"West broke up with Feliciano."

Silence fell upon the group. Gilbert didn't bother opening his eyes, for he already knew the expressions on his friends' faces. Pure shock.

"No," Elizaveta gasped, "that's not possible."

Ivan, who sat on the other side of the room, opposite of Gilbert, nodded. "Da, Ludwig is too much in love with Feliciano to break up with him. Everyone knows that."

"I'm afraid that he has broken up with him." the German continued, finally opening his eyes. "Trust me, I was just as shocked. West then said some un-awesome shit, and I lost it. I started the fight with him, and I wanted to beat his ass so badly. But I forgot how damn strong he is. What Roddy said is true. My whole damn head still hurts."

_Click! Cha-ching!_ Vash prepared his handgun. "I don't normally take sides on these kinds of things, but I feel as though I even need to become a part of this."

"...Seriously, are you even allowed to have a gun on campus?" Gilbert asked, honestly confused. But he was glad to see everyone taking this so seriously. If even Vash, the neutrality-loving Swiss kid, was willing to pick a side and fight for it, that meant that everyone else was bound to as well.

"Poor Feli," Antonio sighed. Francis nodded, unable to form the words to express his sorrow and surprise.

"This is why I called you all here," Gilbert said, narrowing his eyes. "I want to get to the bottom of this. It makes no damn sense for West to break up with Feli at the beginning of the school year when the two will be LIVING TOGETHER for the entire year! And we all just agreed that West is in love with Feli, so there must be some other reason. I have picked you all because your individual strengths can help us solve this mystery." He first turned to his Bad Friends. "Francis, Antonio, you guys are to keep close to Feli. He loves you guys. Antonio, I know that you're student-teaching all the Spanish classes, and, Francis, I know that you have to split your time with Arthur for the home economics classes, but you should still be able to see Feli at some points throughout your days."

Francis nodded and found his voice again. "I only teach the cooking portion of the home economics classes. Arthur teaches the sewing portion. I will be able to take off to see Feliciano during those classes."

"And Feli is taking the European history class that is taught right next to the room where Spanish is taught," Antonio added. "It'll be easy for me to see him."

Gilbert nodded and turned to his next friends. "Roddy, I'm sure that you know your job. Your music class is Feli's first class of the day. And he'll talk to you. He trusts you. So try to get all the information you can out of him in the morning."

The Austrian nodded. "I will."

"Elizaveta, Kiku," the albino continued, "the two of you are co-teaching the photography classes this year. You are to photograph and record any evidence or events that we can use to our advantage. Kiku, you should keep an eye on West and photograph him. Elizaveta, Feli."

Elizaveta turned to the Japanese boy sadly. "These weren't the kinds of photos I wanted to take."

"But I want my friends to get back together," Kiku replied. "I will do whatever it takes." _Of course, if the two don't get back together, I'll lose my primary source of, uh, inspiration,_ he thought.

Then Gilbert turned to the Swiss boy. "Vash, you have the advantage of still being a regular student here, not a student-teacher. Plus, you're the second-most intimidating student on this campus. We'll use you as a last resort, in case West won't talk. You'll be the one to force it out of him. But you're not allowed to shoot him. I reserve the right to do that."

Vash nodded and mentally frowned, upset that he wouldn't get to shoot the guy who was causing so much trouble.

"And, finally," Gilbert finished, turning to Ivan, "you are to use those Russian spy skills of yours to listen in on West. Record your sessions. If he says something we can use to our advantage, we'll need to keep it around as evidence."

"Da, I understand, Comrade."

Quiet.

"...BROTHER."

The group screamed loud enough that the students on the upper floor of the school could probably hear them. Ivan froze and fearfully looked down underneath his seat, only to see his little sister Natalia staring at him.

"How did you get in here!" he nearly cried. "The door is locked, there are no windows or vents in this room, and no one saw you come in."

Natalia narrowed her eyes. "I have sources."

Ivan shivered.

As did everyone else, including Gilbert. "What the hell are you doing here anyway, Natalia?" he asked. "I thought you dropped out at the end of last year."

Ivan shook his head, fear still visible in his eyes. "I am a student-teacher this year because it was the only way my family could convince Natalia to go back to school."

At this, Natalia stood up and clung to her brother's arm. "You guys are planning something. Some sort of game?"

"Uh, no, we-!"

"I WANT TO BE ON BROTHER'S TEAM."

"OKAY, FINE," Gilbert shouted. "Be on your brother's team! Just stop being so creepy!"

Natalia smiled victoriously at her brother. Ivan died a little inside.

"Anyway!" Gilbert groaned, bringing the attention back to the main point. "We have to work together if we're going to find out what's behind this break-up. Something tells me it's something totally not awesome." He closed his red eyes for a moment and then opened them up again. "I heard Feli whisper something about West being Judas when he was trying to make sure I was okay after West punched me. Well, if West is Judas, that means he betrayed us."

Roderich dead-panned. "Are you trying to say that you're Jesus?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's a _metaphor_, Specs. Spare me your criticism for once."

Surprisingly enough, Roderich complied.

"But we are like Jesus and the Apostles," Gilbert agreed. "We will figure this out for Feli."

"For Feli," the group agreed.

Gilbert frowned. _Just you wait, West. I'll bring you down. You think you can do whatever you want like some kind of king? Well, I don't see a crown on your head. You're beyond repentance by this point, little brother. I'm speaking in future tense here. I...We...We will bring you down._

_I'm just a Holy fool._

_Oh, Baby, he's so cruel,_

_But I'm still in love with Judas, Baby._

_I'm just a Holy fool._

_Oh, Baby, he's so cruel,_

_But I'm still in love with Judas, Baby._

_Oh, oh, oh, ohoo, I'm in love with Juda-as, Juda-as._

_Oh, oh, oh, ohoo, I'm in love with Juda-as, Juda-as._

_Judas, Juda-a-a, Judas, Juda-a-a, Judas, Juda-a-a, Judas_

_GAGA!_

END


	5. Track 5: Americano

**Author's Note:** I want to clear something up before I move forward. Lots of you are afraid that I ended "Judas" just as is and that I'm not going to continue it. That's not true. The stories of Gakuen Hetalia are continuous. In other words, the next track I'll write for the Gakuen Hetalia timeline will continue where "Judas" ended. The only reason I write "END" at the end of each track is to say that that specific track is over. It's my way of ending the track as if you're listening to the song. It ends and then the next song begins. That next song might be in dialogue with the previous track (like how "Paparazzi" continued "LoveGame" in _The Hetalian Fame_), or it might not (like "Americano" does not continue "Judas" in _Born This Hetalian Way_).

There are two reasons for why I write these stories this way. First of all, it's just like _Axis Powers Hetalia _itself. The anime and manga jump around to several different stories at once, and it's up to you guys, the audience, to keep track of them. The second reason is that I want to make these stories as much like listening to the album as possible. Tracks on the album may be in dialogue with each other, but they may not be one after the other in the listing. Those of you who read _The Hetalian Monster, The Hetalian Fame,_ and _Hetalia's Christmas Tree_ know this. If you read those stories, you know the plots I've written and how they've come together. For example, you guys who have read those stories know that "Marry the Night" is part of the "Speechless" timeline, which also includes "Poker Face" and "Summerboy." You will also have noticed that "Government Hooker" is a continuation of "Teeth" and so on.

I just wanted to explain this so that you guys don't worry. I'd never leave you hanging on a story like that. (The next Gakuen Hetalia track will be "Black Jesus + Amen Fashion" and pick up where "Judas" left off. Until then!)

**DISCLAIMER:** I also want to say that this track contains sensitive material about current events in America. I am only trying to make a statement about how I feel. I am not saying that I am correct. I do not mind if you disagree with me on any of these issues. I am open to many different opinions, and I encourage you to have your own.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Americano**

**I was born curious.**

"You are to observe the American humans, seeing what their current problems are and what they are doing to fix them."

His leader had said that right before Tony left for Earth. It was a simple order. He was to travel around his human/nation friend's country and see what the normal humans were dealing with in their daily lives. Perhaps, this time, they were doing something productive and smart to fix whatever problems they had.

It was no secret to all aliens, not just the aliens of Tony's kind, that Earth's humans constantly had problems. Some of the problems weren't so bad, at least to Tony. A lot of the time...most of the time...the humans did not agree on just about anything. That wasn't so bad. People had different opinions. Aliens all had different opinions as well, and there were times when Tony did not agree with his friends, both from his planet and from other alien planets.

However, there was a much bigger problem. The humans often disagreed, but they also often hated each other because of the disagreement. This was not exclusive to the American humans. Many humans did not like or respect other humans who did not agree with them, even if the disagreement was rather minor and did not get in the way of anything else. Tony had seen this early on in his trips to America. America himself often did not like the people who disagreed with him, but the nation himself wasn't so sore about it. At least he still respected people...

No, wait, that was a lie, Tony realized. His friend had once hated Russia with a fiery passion and had caused a spy war because of it. Tony still wondered if it was necessary, though America seemed to believe that it was the most necessary war he had ever had. The whole thing had come about because Russia, then known as the Soviet Union, had a different ideology when it came to government. The fact that he was a nation growing in strength, too, did not help.

Tony thought about this. Why was it that, as soon as another nation began to grow in strength, America immediately saw it as a threat to his own national security, even if he had nothing to do with that other nation?

It was with this in mind that Tony descended back to Earth one day to continue his observation of America and his people. He first arrived in the state known as "California" in a large city known as "Los Angeles." Tony had heard wonderful things about this city from America. It was where movies were made and where the rich and famous lived. It had to be a nice place, and the people had to be happy.

Careful not to be seen, Tony observed the people walking by. They looked pretty average. Some of them were extremely wealthy-looking, covered in designer clothes and wearing obnoxiously large sunglasses while carrying around bags bigger than they were. Upon further inspection, Tony realized that there were tiny dogs inside each one of them. The people who looked like this ignored the homeless people on the street, yelling at them, telling them to "get their asses up and find a job, crackheads!"

Tony took a note. "Wealthy Americans do not like to help out poorer Americans. They think they should just work harder if they don't want to be poor."

A conversation quickly caught Tony's attention. "I met the most beautiful girl on the eastern side of the city the other day," he heard a woman say to her friend. "She was so cute and sweet in her flower-printed shorts, and she had the prettiest voice."

"She sounds adorable," her friend agreed.

But the woman wasn't happy. "I think I may be in love with her," she admitted. "I know it sounds crazy after only a few days, but I think I really love her. I...I wish I could marry her, but it's against the law now. Why did so many people vote for that stupid law?"

Tony took another note. "The American government has the power to tell American people whom they can and cannot love. Americans hate people who love people of the same sex. They do not want to give people the freedom to love."

Satisfied with these notes, Tony left for another state.

* * *

He soon arrived in Arizona, which, he thought, was a very beautiful state. It hardly ever rained, the desert scenery was gorgeous, and the food had a very distinct flavor style to it. Tony remembered America once saying that Arizona was part of the American Southwest and that the Southwest in general was very influenced by Mexico. This made it a great vacation spot.

Tony couldn't see anything wrong with any of this. With all these great things, the people of Arizona just _had_ to be happy!

Soon enough, Tony came upon two people speaking a language that was not English. He quickly recognized it as Spanish, specifically Mexican Spanish, which America himself was learning these days. He remembered his friend once saying that there was a growing population of Hispanics in his country and that a lot of them were bringing their language with them. Tony found it admirable that his friend was trying to adapt and make these people feel welcome.

But then, out of nowhere, a group of people starting screaming several swears and offensive slurs at the two people speaking Spanish. The Spanish-speakers looked up in surprise.

"What's wrong?" one of them asked in perfect English.

"ILLEGALS!" the group cried out. "FILTHY ILLEGALS, GET THE HELL OUT OF _OUR_ COUNTRY!"

"What!" the other Spanish-speaker yelped, also in perfect English. "What are you talking about? We've been living here for _years!_ My friend and I immigrated here from Mexico almost fifteen years ago. We're legal citizens of the United States!"

Out of nowhere, the police arrived on the scene. "Show us your papers!" several cops commanded. "If you're here legally, you must have them on you!"

The two Spanish-speakers looked at each other, stunned, and stared back at the police officers. "We were just taking a walk outside!" one of them continued, still in perfect English. "We haven't seen each other in a few days, so we decided to go out for a walk together. That's all we were doing!"

"So you don't have your papers?" one of the cops asked.

The two Spanish-speakers shook their heads in disgust and immediately found themselves in handcuffs. Tony watched as they were dragged into police cars and taken away while the group of solely English-speakers, whom, he noticed, all had white skin, celebrated. "TWO MORE ILLEGAL SCUMBAGS TAKEN OUT OF _OUR_ COUNTRY!" they cheered. "USA! USA! NO FILTH SHALL EVER TAKE THE USA!"

Tony took another note. "Americans only like people who only speak English and have white skin. They do note like anyone else. They especially do not like people from Spanish-speaking countries being in the US, even if they are there legally."

With this in mind, Tony set off for the next state.

* * *

The first thing Tony noticed when he entered Wisconsin was that there were a lot of dairy farms. It was very charming. He could see several cows grazing on the green grass and many hardworking farmers at work, making cheese. He imagined that, if he visited Switzerland, it would probably look like Wisconsin, just with a lot more mountains. It was like something out of a cute fairy tale. With such lovely scenery and cheese, the people had to be happy.

This was immediately disproved when he saw a woman sitting on her front porch, crying her eyes out. The porch itself was nice as far as porches go, but it still could have used a little work. Tony noticed that there was a growing hole near the edge of the porch on one side and that it was because the porch itself was collapsing! Looking up, Tony realized that the whole house wasn't in very good shape. It was livable but not very safe or comfortable.

A man walked out onto the front porch and sat down next to the woman, putting his arms around her. "It's okay, honey," he murmured, "we'll get by somehow."

At this, the woman only wailed louder. "How can you even say that!" she bawled, clutching the man, who, Tony assumed, was her husband. "You lost your small business because that stupid big business has completely overtaken the area. The government keeps giving money to the big businesses, thinking they're going to provide us with jobs, when all it's doing is destroying our small businesses and leaving us with no jobs whatsoever! That big business overworks and underpays however few employees it has; it's not going to be fair any time soon! And now...!" She sobbed into her husband's shoulder. "We were depending on my salary as a teacher to help us out. I thought that, with my benefits, we at least would be able to pay for things like health insurance, but now...now we can't! All the teachers' rights have been taken away! I have to spend the little I do make on our bills instead of our _food!_"

The man grabbed onto his wife, letting her cry. Tony noticed that the man began to cry, too. Then Tony realized that the woman was pregnant.

Tony took a note. "In America, the government does not care about the well-being of anyone except the extremely wealthy. The government believes that all people who are not rich, which is the majority of the population, should make the rich even richer in the hope that the rich fairly pay employees and give them the rights they deserve. But the rich are greedy and keep all the money for themselves, not caring about the poorer people."

Wisconsin wasn't so happy either. Tony left for another state.

* * *

New York was a state that Tony didn't know so well, but he did know New York City pretty well. After Washington D.C., it was America's favorite city (not to mention his largest overall), so the young nation had taken his alien friend there several times.

It was an interesting city, New York. It was so massive, one of the largest cities in the world. Over eight million people lived in that city alone. It could house the populations of several other countries and _still_ have room! And yet...it was a very lonely city. With so many people walking by, paying attention to their schedules and business, it was no wonder that it was easy to feel alone. Tony certainly felt that way. He didn't bother even trying to hide himself, because everyone was too busy to pay attention to him.

The people were too busy paying attention to themselves.

Tony finally understood. That was how people lived in America. That was the so-called "American Dream." It was to become rich and powerful enough that one did not need to pay attention to anyone else. Why bother with people who have less? They had less because they were not working hard enough for success. Yes, that was the way it was. Simple as that. That was the way the "American Dream" worked. If people would just work harder...

_Bullshit._

Tony was suddenly surprised that America didn't hate him. After all, he wasn't from the US, yet he had been visiting "illegally" for years. His skin wasn't white. He didn't speak the language, oh no. He didn't work for some huge company. He wasn't filthy rich. He had been in love with a few other male aliens in the past. He disagreed with many of America's ideas. He lived on the edge of the law.

America _had_ to hate him.

Tony was about to confront the nation when he realized something. It wasn't America's fault. What good would it do to blame the nation? And not all the people were that way. There had to be people out there who cared for others. There just had to be!

Suddenly, a child fell on the sidewalk, spilling his bag of roasted nuts everywhere. Tony watched as the owner of the nearby food cart picked him up, dusted him off, and gave him another bag full of the delicious treat...for free.

Tony took note.

"America is not a perfect country, and many people are mean, judgmental, critical, and hateful here."

He continued on the next line.

"But there are heroes who are trying to fix that."

_I don't speak your, I don't speak your languagono._

_(La la la la la la la.)_

_I don't speak your, I won't speak your Jesus Christo._

_(La la la la la la la.)_

_I don't speak your, I don't speak your Americano._

_(La la la la la la la.)_

_I don't speak your, I won't speak your Jesus Christo._

_(La la la la la la la.)_

_Ahhhhh-America, Americanoooo._

_Ahhhhh-America, Americanoooo._

END


	6. Track 6: Hair

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Hair**

**I was born a civilization.**

He was breaking Rule 1 for the sake of Rule 2. So...it was okay, right?

Egypt kept trying to convince himself, but the protests didn't seem to be going anywhere. Many people had already died, and many more people had been horribly injured. There were photographers and journalists everywhere, trying to capture the story so they could share it with the rest of the world. Egypt was happy they were there, but he still wasn't sure of the whole revolution itself. He and his people were trying so hard, but hardly any progress had been made.

Even amongst the screaming and the crying, Egypt could still remember how all this had started...in a way. It all happened so fast. Things had been building up for so long, and, out of nowhere, they had reached their boiling point and exploded into these protests.

Tunisia had also been a great inspiration. Egypt admitted to himself that he would be lying if he said that this was all his idea. If the Tunisian people could get their corrupt leader to step down, he could get Hosni Mubarak out of office.

But, still, part of him did not want to do so. It was all so very complicated.

Mubarak had been in office since 1975. 1975! That was way too long for any modern leader! He had to go! Egypt's country and people suffered under him. Unemployment. Poverty. High food prices. Human rights violations. The whole thing. Yes, Mubarak had not done what was right for all his people, and that was what a leader was supposed to do.

So Egypt decided he would do what was right for the people. The people wanted to protest. They wanted freedom. He would help them.

The response from other countries had been interesting, especially from countries in the West. The European nations watched on anxiously. Egypt _was_ rather close to Europe after all. Greece and Turkey were especially worried for him. He was their friend! They wanted him to be safe!

At point, Egypt had actually received a phone call from the two of them. "Hey, Egypt!" Turkey cried out, obviously worrying his head off. Egypt could hear him panting on the other end, and he figured that the Turk was sweating bullets. "You're okay, right? Don't do anything stupid! It would suck if you left me here all alone to deal with this little brat!"

"Give me the damn phone!" Egypt heard Greece shout in the background. He then heard several curses and swears in Turkish and Greek, along with some physical fighting. A cat meowed and hissed in the background as he heard the phone drop.

Suddenly, he heard Greece's voice. "I'm behind you all the way, Egypt," he said. "I'm sick of my government, too. It's not doing a damn thing to fix my economy effectively."

"Your situation doesn't suck as much as Egypt's does!" Turkey hollered somewhere in the background. It sounded like he was in pain. "Gimme back the phone! I swear, I'll teach Corporal Cat my national anthem!"

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE."

Egypt hung up. It was nice that his fellow Mediterraneans were worried for him, but he could only put up with so much shouting at once.

The reaction from America had been very interesting as well. There was definitely a population of Egyptians living in his country, especially in New York City. They were protesting, too. America took notice and called Egypt right away.

"Dude! You should see this!" he insisted. "It is AWESOME! There are so many people out here protesting for YOU, man! They are totally on your side! Uh...you ARE trying to get this Mubarak guy out of office, right?"

Egypt nodded even though America couldn't see him.

"...I'm gonna take that as a 'yes'!"

As he should.

"There is something else I seriously wanna ask you about though," America continued, his voice suddenly dropping in tone and excitement. "Egypt, dude, do you want any help? My people are protesting with you, and I'm sure that some people in other countries are, too. It's just...do you want help with this? I will totally come over there and help you out, man, seriously."

Egypt inhaled, making a quiet noise that America caught. Normally, the young nation just barged into other countries, claiming that he was the hero who would save them all. He did not ask for permission to enter someone else's country.

He was.

"I don't want help," Egypt just barely murmured. "Let me do this on my own."

After a moment, America sighed contently. "I understand," he agreed. "I only asked because, when I was having my own revolution, England's enemies barged into the colonies and helped me without asking. It's not like I didn't want their help. I needed it if I wanted to win, but it would have been nice if they had at least told me about it first. This is your business, dude. I'll stay out of your country, but I'm still going to encourage the people here to protest."

Egypt didn't reply not because he usually didn't speak but because he honestly was speechless. He didn't know what to say to this...display of maturity.

"Uh..." America suddenly continued, "but, dude, is it okay if I send journalists over there anyway? I really wanna know what's going on. And I wanna make sure that the shit doesn't hit the fan too hard. That cool?"

Egypt face-palmed.

"Awesome!" America cheered excitedly. "Thanks, dude! I gotta call some news networks to let them know it's okay to go and to let Fox know that it needs to shut the hell up!"

And he hung up.

Egypt figured that the conversation could have been _more_ awkward.

As much as he appreciated the thoughts from the other nations, what was more important was how he felt. And, to be honest, he was confused. To any outsider, this would be odd. After all, Egypt knew that his leader was power-hungry and ruled the country with an iron fist. Duh. But he _did_ get along with the man. Just because he was a lousy politician doesn't mean he was a bad guy...right? Well, he had before a certain conversation.

Whatever. That wasn't important right now. What was important was the conversation that made Egypt decide to join his people in revolution.

_It started out normal enough. Egypt walked into his leader's office and acknowledged him respectfully. Mubarak smiled at him and insisted that he sit down. Egypt nodded and did so._

_"How have you been lately?" the man asked._

_Egypt shrugged. "Fine. But the people aren't."_

_Mubarak nodded. "I'll tell them that I'll reform the government. That should calm them down."_

_The nation shrugged again. "The tourists are leaving," he murmured quietly. "They're worried about the protests. Lots of other countries have forbidden travel here. I'm worried about what will happen if we lose the tourists. They're an important part of the economy."_

_"This whole thing will be over soon," the leader insisted. "Please, do not trouble yourself."_

_Egypt didn't believe him._

_"...You may take your keffiyeh off if you'd like. There's no reason to wear it inside."_

_Hesitantly, Egypt started to pull at the fabric on his head. After another moment, he took the accessory off to reveal his dark brown hair. So few people saw it. Egypt rather liked his keffiyeh, even though he didn't always need to wear it. It gave him a sense of security, but if his leader wanted him to take it off, he would._

_Mubarak frowned when he saw his nation without the piece. "Cut your hair."_

_Egypt looked up, slightly stunned. "Excuse me?"_

_"I want you to cut your hair," the man repeated. "It's too long in the front there. I didn't know you had let it grow so long what with the keffiyeh. I'm glad I can see it now, but I don't like it. Cut it."_

_Egypt narrowed his eyes. "I like it like this," he said firmly. "I don't want to cut it."_

_Mubarak narrowed his eyes back. "Well, I don't like it. Cut it yourself or I'll cut it for you in the middle of the night."_

_Egypt narrowed his eyes further. "I don't have much freedom," he asserted angrily. "I am a nation. I have to follow you no matter what and do what is best for my people. I don't get a lot of choices. If nothing else, I'd like to wear my hair however I'd like. If you take control of that, too, I'll be short of my identity as a person. I'm Gupta Muhammad Hassan, too."_

_"Not as long as I'm your leader," Mubarak shot back, jerking his head towards the nation. "You are nothing more than a personification of Egypt. You are not your own person."_

_"You always do that!" Egypt shouted in a rare display of intense emotion. He stood and glared at his leader. "Whenever anyone tries to do something that makes him or her feel free, you put up a fight and try to take control! What if I decided I wanted to dye my hair red or put ridiculous highlights in it? Then what?"_

_"Why the hell would you do something like that?"_

_"TO BE ME!" Egypt slammed him palms down on his leader's desk and leaned over so the two were closely face-to-face. "I want to prove to my friends that I'm myself. I want them to be able to invite me to their countries without them having to think I'm being forced over there. Why can't you see that? This goes much deeper than just what I do to my hair. This is about freedom for everyone! This is about pride in our national identity!"_

_Mubarak shook his head. "Egypt, you're blowing this out of proportion. I just want you to fix your hair so it looks neater. That's all I want."_

_"It's just another way to control someone," the nation growled as he turned away. "Forget it. I'm sick of following you anyway. I'm joining the people."_

_"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Mubarak nearly screamed, standing. "You are a country. You are MY country. You must obey the rules that all countries must obey. Rule 1 is to always follow the country's leader. That's me! You obey ME!"_

_Egypt walked to the office door and glared back at the man. "And Rule 2 is to do what is best for the people. Rule 1 can be broken for the sake of Rule 2. That is exactly what I'm doing."_

_And he left._

So, now he was protesting in the streets with his people. They didn't know who he was. He wasn't allowed to reveal such information to anyone except his leaders. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if Mubarak was searching for him in the crowds. He'd be near-impossible to see, what with the millions of people around him and the fact that it was nighttime, but the fear still nagged him.

Another fear struck him. _What would Mama think of me?_

Suddenly, even amongst the screaming and chanting, Egypt heard something somewhat unfamiliar to him. It sounded like an ancient version of Arabic. He looked towards the sides of the streets and saw an old man sitting with his legs crossed on the steps of a broken down building. It seemed like the man was just whispering, but Egypt could hear the words loud and clear, although they were difficult to understand. They sounded like Arabic, most definitely, but they also sounded like they were from a different time.

Maneuvering through the crowd, Egypt headed towards the man and stood in front of him on those steps. The man looked up at him and grinned as he reached for his hookah.

"Gupta Muhammad Hassan," he said slyly. "Egypt..."

The nation's eyes widened. "...Wha-?"

"Your mother is very proud of you."

Egypt blinked and the man was gone.

All of a sudden, the people surrounding Egypt began to cheer. The nation looked up towards his capital building and saw that an announcement was being made. The one he had been dying to hear this whole time.

Resignation.

A small smile crept its was onto Egypt's face. Hosni Mubarak had resigned. That was why the people around him were cheering and celebrating and waving their Egyptian flags so high. A bigger smile suddenly broke out on Egypt's face, and he joined the crowd in their joy.

On February 11, 2011.

* * *

The next day, Egypt woke up to see that Tahrir Square was a mess. The celebrating had gone on throughout the entire night, and the remains of the protest were scattered about everywhere. Egypt watched as several people cleaned little areas of the square while others continued to cheer. He then looked out towards the desert. The pyramids were still there, untouched.

Egypt grinned. "You are proud of me, aren't you, Mama?" He looked back towards the square and picked up a broom near his feet. Just as he began to clear the area surrounding him, he took his keffiyeh off to reveal his hair, which he had not touched since his last conversation with Mubarak.

A woman passed by the nation and smiled. "I like your hair!" she said cheerfully. "It suits you!"

Egypt smiled back. "Thank you."

Suddenly, Egypt's cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and answered the call. "Hmm?"

"Dude!" America laughed proudly. "That last protest was AWESOME. My boss and I watched it, and I almost got up and cheered with you guys! I am so with you on everything else you do. Good luck to you! Freedom is AWESOME!"

Egypt grinned again. "Indeed," he agreed quietly. "I am the spirit of my hair."

"Huh?" America replied stupidly. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm as free as my hair."

And he hung up.

Egypt sighed and went back to cleaning. _This is just the first step, _he reminded himself. _It's not going to be easy from here on out, but I will be free as my hair one day._

He looked up towards the rising sun in the sky.

"This is my prayer."

_I've had enough._

_This is my prayer:_

_That I'll die living just as free as my hair._

_I've had enough._

_This is my prayer:_

_That I'll die living just as free as my hair._

_I've had enough._

_I'm not a freak._

_I just keep fightin' to stay cool on these streets._

_I've had enough, enough, enough._

_This is my prayer:_

_I swear, I'm as free as my hair._

END


	7. Track 7: Scheiße

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Scheiße**

**I was born an aristocrat.**

When people get annoyed or angry, it's usually a good idea to let them rant for a time so that they get all those negative emotions out. That way, they could get their troubles off their chests and go on with their lives. They didn't dwell on things, and their mood usually lightened up quickly afterwards.

However, there were limits and exceptions to this idea, as Austria believed. If Prussia started ranting, it was usually about something ridiculous, and he _would not shut up_. His ranting was never-ending and a waste of time.

And then there were the times when Hungary ranted. When she ranted, _everyone_ shut up and let her go on for as long as she wanted. The threat of the frying pan was great, and even Austria, who was her beloved ex-husband, was terrified. Most of Hungary's rants were about Prussia and his idiocy, but, sometimes, the rants were about an issue near and dear to her heart.

This was the case when Austria picked her up from the train station in Vienna for what was supposed to be a nice vacation. The woman refused to meet his gaze and kept completely silent the entire ride to the aristocrat's house. Austria was nervous the entire time. When Hungary didn't speak when something was so obviously bothering her, oh...that was _really_ terrifying.

As soon as the two entered Austria's home, Hungary immediately put her bags in the guest room (She had memorized the layout of the house a long time ago.) and still refused to speak. She then marched into the living room, sat down on the couch, and glared up at Austria. Suddenly, she spoke. "I'm angry at the world right now."

Austria was scared to sit down next to the woman, so he continued to stand on the other side of the room. "Oh?" he said cautiously. "Why?"

Hungary narrowed her eyes. "What do you think?"

Austria paled. "Oh no..."

"I took a taxi to the train station in Budapest since my home is on the other side of the city," the woman explained, her voice tense and angry. "When we got to the station, I was prepared to pay the driver and give him a tip. Do you know what he said to me?"

"No..."

"'The ride's free if you suck me off.' That's what he said."

Austria was speechless for a moment. "So vulgar."

"NO SHIT!" Hungary shouted, slamming her hands down on the couch. "When I refused, he added another two thousand forints to the total! Luckily, there was a police officer near the entrance to the station, so I told him about the guy, and he dealt with him. But then, on the train, a group of guys told me to give up my seat for them. When I refused, they almost laid their hands on me, but I shoved them away. Then they called me a bitch and told me I had no right to be on a train anyway, because a woman's place is in the kitchen making sandwiches. So I started yelling at them, and then one of the train employees told me to stop because I was making a scene and that nothing was worth getting upset about. _Excuse me? _Blatant sexism isn't worth getting upset about? Being treated like a second-class citizen is nothing to be angry about? What the hell is wrong with the world! Nothing's freakin' changed since...forever!"

Austria wasn't sure how to reply to all that. Hungary was extremely passionate about feminism and was an activist against sexism and misogyny. She was a strong woman, physically, mentally, and emotionally, but she also had a short fuse when it came to ignorance and hatred. No doubt, she wouldn't be letting this go for a while.

The aristocrat nodded. "I hate that things are still this way," he agreed quietly. "I understand."

Hungary's eyes widened with rage. She stared at the man before her and whispered, "No. No, you don't. You don't understand. You don't know what it's like."

"Wha-?"

"You don't know what it's like to be discriminated against because of something you can't help," the woman hissed. "You don't know how difficult it is to be a woman. You don't know what it's like to _fight_ and _struggle _for what you want and _still_ not have all the same rights as a man. I appreciate the fact that you see me as an equal, Austria, but you don't know what it's like not to be seen as an equal by the rest of the world." She stood and walked over to the aristocrat, who was frozen in place, stunned. "Watch TV for an hour or so," she suggested. "See the sexism, especially in the commercials. Women are either sex objects or housewives. _Think about it_." With that, she turned and walked down the hall back towards the guest room. "I'm tired. Good night."

Austria didn't move until he heard the guest room door slam shut. Even after that, he stood alone in his living room silently for a few moments. Then, he snatched the television remote off his coffee table and turned the set on. He didn't watch a lot of television, but he still changed the channel to a program he thought he'd like anyway, some biography of a non-Austrian musician.

For the hour that Hungary suggested, Austria stared at the screen, paying special attention to the commercials. Most of them were normal, but most of them featured men. A commercial for a new cleaning product came on, and he watched as a woman happily cleaned up after her family, not expecting anything in return from them. Then a commercial for a popular brand of beer aired. Austria watched as several women dressed in sexy clothes practically threw themselves all over a man drinking the beer. The rest of the hour was hard to sit through.

As soon as the program was over, Austria turned the television off and nearly ran for his bedroom. Too much. Hungary had been right. The fact that she had pointed so many truths out to him made him see things for what they really were.

With those terrifying thoughts in mind, Austria changed into his pajamas and crawled into his bed. He placed his glasses on the nightstand and turned out the light. He didn't fall asleep right away though, instead taking a moment to think.

"It's harmless," he murmured, nodding to himself. "Times _have_ changed. It's not that hard to be female. It can't be."

He slowly shut his eyes an fell asleep.

"It can't be."

* * *

When Austria woke up the next morning, he had a creeping feeling that something wasn't right even before he got out of bed. He blinked his eyes open and stirred, pushing himself up off the bed. A long cascade of brown hair fell to the mattress, and he nearly screamed. He jumped up, looking at himself. Well, he wasn't a "he" anymore. _She_ was wearing a frilly nightgown and had long, shiny, brown hair. Beneath her nightgown, she sported a set of small, firm breasts and absolutely nothing _down there_.

Panicking, Austria jumped up out of the bed and ran to the mirror in her room, stopping for a moment to realize that she was not in her bedroom, her modern bedroom at least. This was her bedroom during the 18th century, around the time of the War of the Austrian Succession. That thought was also terrifying. If she had somehow traveled back in time, just how far back had she gone?

At that moment, a few chambermaids walked into the bedroom without knocking and greeted the female nation. Austria tried to say something to them, but they ignored her pleas, stating that she needed to look her best, as usual. She was unable to fight back, as they tied a corset so tight she couldn't breathe. When she tried to complain, the maids told her to hush and deal with it.

"After all, it's more proper for a woman to be frail and dainty and faint than to be comfortable," one of them stated.

As soon as Austria was "properly" dressed, she was led to the dining hall, where she saw none other than Maria Theresa waiting for her. She smiled at her, secretly wondering if she was the leader yet or not. She seemed rather young, so she thought not, which led to another series of terrifying thoughts. _Prussia will attack us after she is made Queen. Good Lord, I do NOT want to relive this war. This has to be a dream. A dream! I swear, I'll wake up any time now!_

She pinched herself. Nothing. She did it again. Still nothing.

She wasn't dreaming.

_...Scheiße._

All of a sudden, a servant called for Austria. She looked up at the maid and was suddenly dragged away to another part of the castle. Only after they had gone down several hallways did Austria realize where they were going. Her eyes widened. "What is today's date?" she asked breathlessly.

The maid frowned, still leading her towards the room. "It's October 20, 1740, Milady."

Austria paled. _Oh, God, no, why send me to THIS day of ALL days! _She didn't have that much time to think though, as she was shoved into Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI's bedchambers. The King of the Romans was lying in his bed and seemed quite ill. He looked over at Austria and sighed, resting his head against a pillow.

"I have not much time left," he whispered. "I am terrified, Austria. I do not want to leave my darling daughter alone."

Austria cleared her throat. "She's not alone," she explained. "I will be there for her. Additionally, she has the support of the court. She is a very smart woman, Your Royal Highness. She will be able to lead well."

The man shook his head slightly. "If only you were male."

"...Excuse me?"

"If you were male, I would feel better about my daughter becoming your leader. Then I would know for a fact that the country was strong."

"Sir-!"

"A woman cannot lead a country without a man to support."

All of a sudden, Austria felt a fire bubble deep inside her. Her eyes widened in realization and horror, and she began to shake. She stared at this man, whom she had once mourned, suddenly feeling nothing but rage for him. _He only allowed Maria Theresa to rule because I was male, _she thought angrily. _He secretly hoped Francis Stephen and I would take over all responsibilities. But I'm a woman now...for whatever reason, so he suddenly doesn't think his daughter can lead. Bastard..._

Austria didn't really hear anything else that happened throughout the rest of that day. Maria Theresa mourned for her father, not knowing of what he had said of her. Austria was tempted to tell her but refrained from doing so. After all, it wasn't proper for a woman to speak without a man's permission.

And then, out of nowhere, Austria found herself holding a note in her hands. She looked up and saw Gilbird chirping above her before flying off back towards his master. She looked back ahead of herself and saw Maria Theresa smiling at her right after the accession. Weird. It was as if the War of the Austrian Succession was happening before her very eyes. No, it was! This had to be a dream, Austria decided. This was impossible!

Out of nowhere, she was suddenly standing in a room with the entire court. She looked around anxiously and then looked to Maria Theresa, who was frowning sadly as if she could sense how distraught her country was. Austria looked back up to the court and went to say something but was stopped.

"Please, sit down, Milady," one of the men said, standing. "We will figure this out for you." He nearly pushed Austria into a free seat and began to speak.

Austria looked up at him in shock. "But I am your nation."

"And a woman," the man hissed back. "You would be wise to sit there and let the work of men be done by men." And he went back to his speech.

Austria could hear the other men agreeing with him. "Why did _we_ have to get stuck with a _female_ nation?" another man asked. "We already look weak to all the other countries in Europe. Now we have two _women_ in charge. This will be our downfall."

The other sexist rants came out one by one. Austria couldn't hear them. She could only hear one question repeating in her head.

_Was this what Hungary experienced?_

As soon as the meeting began, it ended. Austria found herself in the hallway, the man from the meeting across from her. She watched him carefully as he approached her, backing her into the corner. She looked up at his gleaming eyes in fear. "Please, stop this," she nearly begged. "I am uncomfortable."

"I'll give you a say in the next meeting if you want," the man replied, grinning wickedly. It was a grin that would make even Prussia blush.

Austria's eyes widened. "You...would?"

The grin on the man's face grew, and he shoved Austria down to the floor. "Suck it," he commanded. "Do it and I'll be sure you're heard next time. You'd make a damn pretty whore for me, you know. Be my mistress and I'll give you whatever you want."

Austria gasped in horror and pushed the man away. "No!" she cried. "I refuse! I would never perform any sexual favors for a man so vulgar!"

The man stumbled backwards and shrugged as soon as he regained his balance. "This was the only opportunity you would ever have," he sighed, straightening himself back up. "It's not like you could ever get the court to listen to you anyway, woman. Think about it. Maria Theresa didn't become your ruler because she proved she _could_ rule, oh no. The only reason she is your leader now is because her father said so. Her father! A woman has no place standing up for and defending herself. If she does, she is a waste, as her only job is to support men and provide male heirs."

Austria did not know how to reply. The words were so blunt, so cruel. They cut deeply into her, making her shake out of fear, anger, and pain. Why had she never seen things like this when she was a man experiencing this war? If she had, she would have stopped it! This man, all of the men at the meeting...they had no respect for Maria Theresa, much less women in general. Austria could hear several other men from the meeting complaining about their new leader in the next room, agreeing with the man before her.

"What is going on out here?" another man asked, walking into the hallway. He looked down at Austria and frowned. "Get up off the floor. You should at least be able to manage that on your own. And then leave this area. You are not needed to discuss the war plans."

"But I am your _nation!_" Austria cried, scrambling to her feet and rushing to the man. "I _must_ be present at all these meetings. I am the one you are protecting! I am you!"

The man rolled his eyes. "You are nothing but a worthless female nation," he spat. "You cannot even bear children unless it is your time to die. Stupid. The one thing a woman is good for you cannot do. That makes you even more worthless to us than a human woman." He reached out and pushed Austria away from the meeting room. "Now leave us. The only reason we are fighting to save you is because we do not want to die so soon."

And he slammed the door in her face.

And then, out of nowhere, Austria was watching Prussia's army defeat her army. One by one, the soldiers fell, allowing Prussia to break through and take Silesia. Austria watched from a window in the palace as Prussia advanced, wanting to break down into tears. She held them back as much as she could, but she could not help the emotions that escaped. Prussia had not changed; he was still male. Of course, everyone was listening to him without a second thought. He cackled victoriously at the end of the battle and declared that Silesia was his.

Austria looked away. "I want to go home," she whispered. "I have to be dreaming. There is no way in the world this could be happening. I...I must be..." She pinched herself again but felt no different. She didn't wake up, and the scene did not change.

Feeling defeated, she began to cry. _How stupid,_ she thought between sobs. _No wonder it's a stereotype that only women cry. They've had to put up with too much _Scheiße _throughout history! These are tears of pain and frustration, not weakness!_

Suddenly, the nation felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up at her leader, who smiled softly. "Don't worry. I've brought help." She moved to reveal a handsome, young man who seemed prepared to fight.

Austria gasped in realization. "Hungary..."

"I will save you, Austria," the male Hungary announced, drawing his sword. "You have nothing to fear. Leave it all to me." He narrowed his eyes confidently and headed towards the meeting room with several of his troops, muttering something about vital regions along the way.

Soon enough, Prussia's army fell to Hungary's. Austria continued to watch from the palace, trying to drown out of the voices behind her.

"I wish Hungary could be our nation."

"Yes, then we wouldn't be stuck with a useless woman."

"Hungary saved all of us. I wouldn't expect anything less from such a fine man."

"Prussia deserves our utmost respect as well, for he is a fantastic fighter."

"I don't care which one is stronger. I'd rather live under either one of them than under the useless woman."

"Amen to that."

Austria shut her eyes tightly. "If I were to be a woman in the 21st century, I would still have to listen to all of this _Scheiße_ every single day. Oh God, I wish...I wish that I could be strong without a man there. I wish I could love whomever I wanted to love and not have to deal with all this _Scheiße_..."

_Hungary...I'm so sorry. I never understood..._

_Scheiße...Scheiße...SCHEIßE!_

* * *

_"SCHEIßE!"_ Austria screamed, sitting up in his bed. He gasped and looked out his bedroom window. Morning. He looked back down at himself, feeling around his chest and lower regions. Definitely male. Everything was back to normal.

"What is the name of Mozart...?" he gasped, pinching himself. He cringed. He still wasn't dreaming. "I was conscious the whole time," he realized, resting his arms at his sides. "I just wasn't here. Must have been some kind of out-of-body experience...Oh, my God." He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. That had been one of the weirdest, most terrifying, most eye-opening experiences of his life.

And then, suddenly, he got out of bed and ran down the hall towards the guest room. "Hungary!" he called, banging on the door. "Hungary! Are you awake?"

"Yes!" Hungary replied, opening the door quickly. "What is it? Oh, my God, Austria, you look totally pale! What happened to you?" She tried to calm the man down, but he kept blabbering on in German. Hungary's voice became quiet. "I don't speak German, but I can if you like..."

"Hungary!" Without thinking, Austria wrapped his arms around the woman and held her close. "Oh Lord, Hungary, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. I was so horribly ignorant...such a blind, vulgar fool. I never understood...oh my..."

"Austria?" Hungary murmured, pushing the man away slightly so she could see him clearly. "Are you alright?"

"Hungary," the man said firmly, "I will never be able to know what it is like to struggle and fight the way you know it. However, I want to try. I want to help you! I'll do whatever you say. What will help you in your fight against sexism?"

Hungary gasped and took a step back. She was stunned but not in a bad way. It was a pleasant sort of surprise, one she both wanted to question and yet did not want to question at the same time. Based on the look on Austria's face, she decided it was better just to go along with him. She smiled knowingly and nodded.

"Well, the other female nations and I have this thing called 'Dance in the Dark'..."

_When I'm on a mission, I rebuke my condition._

_If you're a strong female, you don't need permission._

_I, I wish that I could dance on a single prayer._

_I, I wish I could be strong without somebody there._

_I, I wish that I could dance on a single prayer._

_I, I wish I could be strong without the Scheiße, yeah._

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Without the Scheiße, yeah._

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Without the Scheiße, yeah._

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Without the Scheiße, yeah._

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._

_Without the Scheiße, yeah._

_I don't speak German, but I wish I could._

END


	8. Track 8: Bloody Mary

**Author's Note:** The chapters will get happier after this one, I promise. And this is the last chapter to contain the America criticism I seem so fond of. o_o I've got to stop writing fanfiction while watching _The Daily Show_, seriously. XD

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Bloody Mary**

**I was born to move on.**

_The fighting had to stop. It had gone on far too long. What had started out as a fight for independence during World War II had escalated into a horribly complicated conflict that Vietnam could no longer stand._

_Her life had been rough under France. He controlled her, Cambodia, and Laos as colonies, using them for their resources and land. Vietnam wasn't stupid though. She knew that another major reason was just so he could keep up with the other European powers._

_After nearly a hundred years of French rule, Vietnam found herself under Japan's control during World War II. Not so surprising. After all, he controlled the majority of the Pacific, especially in Asia. She and the other nations fought and waited for the war to end. To them, it was nothing new, the control, the colony status._

_When she was finally freed in 1945, Vietnam found herself facing a new problem. This problem was much larger than anything she had ever faced before, because she was suddenly involved in several messes at once. Yes, France's rule had been the easy part. Now, she had to create an identity for herself, work out her own problems, and create the right ties with the rest of the world._

_She knew what was going to happen. As soon as World War II ended, America could no longer hide his intense dislike of Russia. The two had put their differences aside to fight the Axis Powers, but they had far too many of those differences in order to keep putting them aside._

_It only got worse when the Chinese Communist Party won the Chinese Civil War. Vietnam had seen everything, watching China fight his doppelgänger in hopes that he would not fall to communism. Russia's Soviet Union, however, was far too convincing and strong. China, therefore, was left with two options: 1. He could fight until he was too weak and his doppelgänger took control of his country, or 2. he could admit that it wasn't worth fighting anymore and accept the new government. He chose the latter. His doppelgänger disappeared, leaving him to swallow his pride and move on with his life._

_It would happen to her. There was no stopping it._

_It had happened to Korea, too, but that had ended in a stalemate. With neither side willing to back down or fight anymore, Korea and his doppelgänger split up and divided their land. The Korea the world knew and loved became South Korea, run by anti-communist forces, and his doppelgänger became North Korea, content to live under Kim Il-Sung. After that, South Korea changed. All the years of Japan's harsh rule and now the threat of his terrifying doppelgänger transformed him into a paranoid, troubled man. He kept his smile and cheer, but the other nations saw right through him, knowing that he was scared deep down._

_It would happen to her. She knew it._

_She saw the corruption in the creating of her new country. She saw the influences behind every single decision. She knew she was nothing more than an example for the rest of the world, because she knew that America's only intention was to contain communism._

_"I'm gonna do everything in my power to keep you out of the hands of communists," America said to her one day on a trip to Vietnam's country with his current boss. President Eisenhower agreed and turned to __Ngô Đình Diệm__ to have a separate conversation. America didn't seem to notice. "Trust me, Vietnam," he continued, "it's what's best for you."_

_Vietnam was quiet for a moment, processing the words in her head. She then looked up at America sadly and said, "He rigged the voting system with help from your boss. How am I supposed to create a good, honest country if my main supporter is promoting corruption?"_

_"You WANT to turn communist?" Eisenhower suddenly asked, turning away from Diệm and focusing his attention on the girl. "Do you have any idea of what your people asked for? There was an overwhelming majority in favor of the communists taking over the country. If we let the people vote fairly, you'll be a victim of the Soviet Union in no time."_

_Vietnam frowned. "At least it would be an honest election."_

_"We're trying to help you here!" America suddenly shouted, forcing the girl to look at him. "I'm not going to let that commie control you, Vietnam. I won't! He's EVIL! An evil communist!"_

_Vietnam looked down at her feet for a moment, letting the words sink in. She was so confused, but she knew what was going to happen. No matter how much she tried to protest, no matter how convincing she was, no matter the weaknesses she found in America's argument, she would not be able to stop the coming fighting. More than just not being able to stop America, she wouldn't be able to stop her own leader. There was no breaking Rule 1 for the sake of Rule 2 here, because even she had no idea what was right anymore._

_She finally looked up and held the tears in her eyes back. Her doppelgänger stared back at her with huge, insane eyes and a grin so wide she could see every side one of its teeth._

_There was no going back._

_When they came for her, she would be ready._

* * *

_But nothing could prepare her for just how long the fighting would go on. Her doppelgänger fought hard, loving the support from China and Russia. That same expression always stayed plastered on its face, even as the bombs detonated and the guns fired. No, it was enjoying it. It was finding pleasure in the pain. Those were the kinds of things doppelgängers lived for. China's had been the same way, as had South Korea's._

_One day, while taking a rest from the fighting, Vietnam took shelter in an abandoned hut and sat down in the corner, trying to figure the mess out._

_"What do I do?" she asked herself. "What do I do?"_

_This would take a while._

_That got her thinking about the doppelgänger. It was out there, fighting mercilessly and loving every moment of it. But why? Was every doppelgänger like that? And, if each one was, WHY was it like that? What if the doppelgänger was right? Then what? Then that would make her, Vietnam, the bad guy, she rationalized. But, yet again, there was no real way to say who was right and who was wrong. When the trouble had first started, Vietnam only knew that there would be fighting, a lot of fighting. She did not know how it would all turn out._

_Suddenly, she remembered something. Russia, in his communist vs. anti-communist revolutions, he had not had a doppelgänger._

_"Why?" she gasped, looking up at the remains of the old hut. "It makes no sense. The communists were fighting anti-communists in a civil war-like setting. That creates a doppelgänger! Any civil war creates a doppelgänger! It's happened to all the other countries throughout history!" She paused and panted heavily. "Why...? Why was there no Russia doppelgänger?"_

_She feared the answer, even though she did not know what it was._

* * *

_Too long and too large. That was what the war was._

_Vietnam knew that her Southern soldiers were poorly armed and that the soldiers in general were poorly trained. Were they even a military? It was hard to tell, since they mostly fought in the guerilla style. The Northern soldiers were much better trained. When Russia and China were devoted to something, they went all-out. America, bless his heart, tried his best to help the South, but the North was advancing every day._

_Then Diệm was assassinated in 1963 during a coup. That was the same year America's boss John F. Kennedy was assassinated, leaving Lyndon B. Johnson in charge. America seemed rather fond of him, from Vietnam's point of view anyway. He was concerned with social change in his country, which, according to America, was awesome._

_However, to him, Vietnam was not a priority. He acknowledged that he needed to help fight communism, but she wasn't important to him._

_That changed when he realized how dire of a situation she was in. When he heard of the problems that had arisen from Diệm's assassination, he expanded America's place in the war, sending the nation himself over there to fight the North._

_Vietnam didn't know if she was relieved or angry when she saw America firing bullets. The South Vietnamese economy grew, as did the levels of corruption in the country. The coups and rigged elections happened constantly, all the way in the 1970s. Just like the fighting._

_Vietnam covered her ears as the bombs exploded around her. She shut her eyes tightly and prayed that it would end. But to whom would she pray? It was useless. She had always known that this would happen. She had known that it wouldn't be easy._

_But she had chosen to go along with it._

_She suddenly hated herself. Her hands fell to her sides as the bombings ceased for a brief moment, reflecting on what she had done. Or, rather, what she hadn't done._

_"I never tried to change anything," she whispered, not hearing the bomb that went off near by. "I never stood up. I never told America what I wanted. I never told ANYONE what I wanted." She looked down at the burnt grass as her eyes widened. "I just accepted things as they were and didn't try to stop them."_

_Suddenly, she stood and her eyes scanned the landscape. There was America. She could see the unsure look on his face and the fear in his eyes. He didn't see her though, too worried about the surroundings. Vietnam couldn't blame him. They were both scared to death._

_"But I have to do something," she murmured. "I have to talk. I have to say something." She went to move towards America but felt a sharp tug on her arm. Surprised, she looked over her shoulder and nearly screamed, for her doppelgänger was staring right at her with that same crazy gaze and bloodthirsty grin. In a moment of panic, she tried to pull away, but the grip on her arm was too strong, and the doppelgänger actually twisted her arm around so it snapped. She shut her eyes, cried out in pain, and crumbled to the ground, clutching her broken arm as soon as the doppelgänger let go. Then she felt herself being lifted up and tossed aside. When she opened her eyes, she found that she had been thrown rather far away, and a look of horror came over her face. The doppelgänger was moving towards America._

_"STOP!" she screamed. The doppelgänger did so, but it seemed like none of the other soldiers heard her. Not surprising with all the bombs and guns going off around her. She hoisted herself up and screamed again. "I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT ANYMORE! PLEASE, STOP!" She fell to her knees again and begged._

_The doppelgänger turned, that same expression still on its face. Vietnam shook. "What are you planning?" she demanded, though her voice was unsure and scared. She hoped the copy could hear her._

_It did and its grin widened. It opened its mouth._

_"I'M not ready for the fighting to stop."_

_Vietnam nearly died on the spot. "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO TALK!" she screamed, her broken, battered body shaking and failing her. She stumbled about in a desperate attempt to get to America before the doppelgänger did, but it was no use. She looked up at the copy and began to cry. "Doppelgängers aren't supposed to be able to talk," she sobbed. "Not while they're a part of the original nation..."_

_The doppelgänger laughed. "It can if it is destined to win."_

_It turned and launched an attack on America._

_And the fighting continued._

_America continued fighting until Vietnam was full of nothing but hate for him for all the wrong reasons. But she couldn't help it. She couldn't take it anymore, and she was ready stop once and for all._

_Forgetting about her doppelgänger, she marched right up to America and slapped him across the face._

_"Get out of my country," Vietnam spat, her face bitter, angry, and hateful, her teeth full of dirt and blood. "I never asked for your help, you idiot. I can take care of my own damn self; I don't need you to save me! You're no hero, America. You're just a world superpower who doesn't want to admit that there might be someone stronger out there! End your stupid war with Russia already! You can both be strong countries without hating each other!" She fell to the abused ground and sobbed, her napalm-induced wounds burning and scarring her for life._

_America's troops began to pull out of Vietnam's territory the next day._

_I won't cry for you, she thought as she watched the soldiers leave. The fact that you'll be gone doesn't change anything. We're both still covered in blood._

_She let tears slip down her cheeks._

_But, she continued thinking, if your Cold War continues like this, I should forgive you before you're dead._

_North and South Vietnam were unified on April 30, 1975, after North Vietnam took Saigon. Vietnam's doppelgänger disappeared, as she had accepted the new rule._

_She swore she would never return to this._

* * *

Vietnam opened her eyes as the train from Newark Airport came to its final stop on the line in New York Penn Station. She gathered her things and exited the train, walking up a flight of stairs until she reached the compound. The station was crowded, that was for sure. It reminded her of home. Hanoi was always crowded, no matter what.

"Hey! Vietnam!"

The girl looked up and saw America cheerfully waving to her. She smiled and waved back as the man jogged to her. "Hey, you finally arrived!" he laughed. "Here, let me take some of your bags."

Vietnam rolled her eyes, amused. "My hero," she chuckled as she passed two pieces of the luggage to him.

America's smile widened. "You know it!" He laughed again and the two headed outside the station.

"I'm really looking forward to this," Vietnam said as soon as they reached the busy streets of New York City. "I've been here before, but it's always been on business. I've never been here on vacation before."

"I'll make sure you see all the good stuff," America reassured as they turned a corner. "Not the tourist crap. New York's got better stuff than that."

"How is New York, by the way?"

"Doing well, thanks! He's not here today; he's in Albany. But I'll tell him you said 'hi' next time I talk to him!"

Vietnam smiled. "Thanks. What do you have in mind for dinner?"

"I looked up this cool-looking noodle place in Chinatown if you want."

"Can we have burgers for dinner tomorrow?"

"Hell yeah!"

The two walked down the busy street in silence. At one point, Vietnam noticed that her right hand and America's left hand were both empty. She reached out slightly and took his hand in hers. She noticed a small, easygoing smile appear on America's face, and she smiled back.

Her doppelgänger had been able to talk, but there was one thing it had not been able to do that she would always be able to do.

She could move on.

_I'll dance, dance, dance_

_With my hands, hands, hands above my head, head, head_

_Like Jesus said._

_I'm gonna dance, dance, dance_

_With my hands, hands, hands above my head._

_Hands together._

_Forgive him before he's dead because I won't cry for you._

_I won't crucify the things you do._

_I won't cry for you._

_See, when you're gone, I'll still be Bloody Mary._

END


	9. Track 9: Black Jesus  Amen Fashion

**Author's Note:** Welcome back to Gakuen Hetalia. I know you guys have been waiting for this story line's continuation. Enjoy!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Black Jesus + Amen Fashion**

**I was born to build my confidence.**

When Ivan graduated from Hetalia Academy at the end of the year, a small population of the campus celebrated. It wasn't that they particularly disliked Ivan, but the Russian was incredibly creepy and quite intimidating, and the students were afraid of him. One of these students was Raivis Galante, a small boy from Latvia who was especially scared of the older boy.

It went beyond just the great difference in their heights. Whenever Raivis was anywhere near Ivan, he would always do everything in his power to get away from him as quickly as possible. If he and Ivan were in the same class, he would immediately run to Rome or Germania to change his schedule. If he could not get away from Ivan, he would often have a panic attack on the spot and be sent back to his apartment. His friends from the other Baltic countries worried about him constantly. To them, it was very possible that Raivis could scare himself to death.

When Ivan finally graduated, it was as if a weight had been lifted from Raivis's shoulders. He felt free. No more would he be so scared! He did dread losing Toris, as he graduated, too, but he still had Eduard, a computer whiz from Estonia. The two of them would be alright on their own.

That was until Raivis walked into his last class of the day at the beginning of the new school year. European history. No problem. He liked European history.

But, when he walked through the door to the classroom, he saw Ivan, standing in front of the chalk board with the teacher, a sweet smile on his face.

Raivis passed out right there in the doorway.

When he finally woke up, he was back in the apartment he was sharing with Eduard for the year. His friend was sitting by his bed, and he looked quite worried himself.

"You scared me," he told his little friend. "You were perfectly fine until we walked into European history class. I guess Ivan scared you that badly, huh?"

Raivis nodded, not speaking a word. He was still a bit shaken.

Eduard nodded back. "He's the student teacher for your European history class this year. I already checked with Rome and Germania, and you can't switch out. The class is only taught during the last period, and you need to take this level as a junior. I'm sorry, I know that you don't want to be in Ivan's class."

Raivis whimpered and tried to hide under his bed sheets. "I'll n-never go t-to class this year..."

"Then you'll fail," Eduard sigh sympathetically. He looked down at his friend and frowned. "I don't understand why you're so scared of Ivan. Sure, he's intimidating and a bit creepy, but I don't think he deserves this. I don't think he's a bad guy."

Raivis peeked out from underneath his sheets, shaking his head. "You d-don't know what h-he did to m-me..."

The Estonian raised an eyebrow. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Raivis raised the sheets back above his head, refusing to answer.

Eduard sighed. "Alright, well, at least you're conscious now." He got up from the chair and grabbed his backpack. "I'm going to the library to do my homework. Are you going to be okay by yourself?"

No response.

"...Call me if you need me."

And he left.

Raivis lowered the sheets on his head. He then lifted his hands up to his face and frowned. His hands were shaking a bit, which wasn't unusual for him. He lowered them back down and rolled over so he was facing the bedroom window. The sun was bright that day, lightening up the room and making the world seem cheerful. He was anything but.

What Eduard didn't know about Raivis, what _no one_ knew about Raivis, was that he had had a hard life. He was an only child to abusive parents. They had lived in a small, run-down house in between a suburb and the countryside in Latvia and had not had a lot of money. Raivis never said anything to his friends or his other relatives, too afraid of what his parents would do to him if he did. Fear held him back for the majority of his young life, crippling his self-esteem and confidence. It wasn't until his last year of middle school when he finally mustered up enough courage to tell his aunt about the abuse. He was immediately taken away from his parents, and he moved into his aunt's home in Riga.

But it wasn't enough for Raivis. Just being in Latvia was too much for him, so he decided to go away for high school. His aunt was worried about him at first, afraid that he wouldn't be able to handle being in a new place with so many new people. She did, however, think it was important for him to get away from his home for a little while. Perhaps a change of scenery was in order. Raivis then discovered Hetalia Academy and decided he wanted to attend the private school.

He never thought at any point that he would run into someone who reminded him of his parents so much. Ivan was tall and large with dark eyes and a menacing smile. Whenever he looked down at tiny Raivis, the Latvian could only see his parents staring at him.

It wasn't just the likeness. Ivan _loved_ to bully Raivis. The Latvian hated how Ivan pressed his head down and teased him about his size. It didn't stop there. Ivan would also push Raivis around, literally, laughing the whole time about how the Latvian was so easy to move because of his size. His seemingly favorite thing to do was poke Raivis constantly, his cheek, his arm, his neck, his chest, it didn't matter to Ivan. All of Raivis was up for poking.

"I hate him," the little Latvian whimpered, burying his face in the pillows. "I hate him so much."

After another moment of silence, he reached towards the nightstand and picked up the remote resting there. He turned the small television on the other side of the room on and flipped the channels until he came to a recording of a fashion show. For the first time since seeing Ivan that day, he smiled. He thought about how cool it would be to see Feliks presenting his clothes to an audience one day. The fashionista had graduated from Hetalia Academy along with Ivan and Toris, but he and Toris had not come back to be student teachers. Feliks had always known that he wanted to go to an art college for fashion design. Toris, not knowing what else to do, went with him, so the two had become a team in the department. Raivis's smile broadened. He wondered how cool it would be to be a guest at a fashion show for the duo.

That wasn't the only reason. Raivis loved watching models walk down the runway, looking confident, dressed in amazing clothes. He admired them, wishing he could be that confident and cool. During the time he had been living with his parents, fashion shows and magazines had been an escape. Contrary to Feliks's love of fashion, Raivis was only interested in the models. They were everything he wanted to be.

He went to bed with a smile on his face that night.

* * *

When Raivis arrived at the academy the next day, he heard about the incident that had taken place on campus the day prior. He was slightly surprised that the talk wasn't about him collapsing, but he sadly figured that it was the norm for his fellow students to see him like that. No, the talk was about Feliciano and Ludwig. When Raivis heard that they had broken up, he was stunned.

"I thought they loved each other," he said to Eduard over lunch that day. He looked down at his tupperware bowl of grey peas and ham, his eyes miserable. He didn't want to hear about anyone else having a hard time or suffering. To him, he had that covered.

Eduard shrugged. "I really don't know the rest of the story," he explained, taking another bite of his _verivorst_ (blood sausage and barley). "All I know is that it happened early in the morning yesterday, like, right after Rome's speech. It didn't really get around campus though until the afternoon. Apparently, Gilbert tried to attack his little brother because he was angry that Ludwig had broken up with Feliciano."

"Ludwig was the one who broke it off?" Raivis interrupted.

Eduard nodded, swallowing his bite. "Ludwig then punched Gilbert in the head so badly that he couldn't get up for a minute or so. He had to go to the nurse and everything. There was no permanent damage, but he was still hurt pretty badly. I hear that he's now trying to figure out why Ludwig broke up with Feliciano at all, because it doesn't really make sense."

Raivis frowned. "Poor Feliciano. He must be heartbroken."

"He's in your European history class. You can see him for yourself later."

The Lativian shook. Ivan would also be there.

"I d-don't think I can g-go," he mumbled. "Ivan..."

"I really don't want to hear it," Eduard sighed. "Raivis, you're one of my best friends. I worry about you constantly, mostly because I fear you can't take care of yourself. You've got to get over this thing you have with Ivan! You can't let it control your life! For all we know, he could be a student teacher again next year! I hear that him becoming a student teacher was the only way his family could get Natalia to go back to school. She dropped out at the end of last year because Ivan was graduating."

"And Natalia is my age," the Latvian whimpered. "I don't l-like b-being around her either..."

Eduard rolled his eyes. "Come on, Raivis, there has to be _something_ you can do to get your confidence up. Or maybe I can help you do something? Maybe we could call Feliks or Toris?"

Raivis didn't reply.

"That's it, I'm calling them." Eduard plucked his smartphone from his pocket and dialed his friends. Raivis was absolutely horrified and just about to beg for him to stop when the Estonian began speaking. "Toris, I need your and Feliks's help. We need to get Raivis's confidence up."

Raivis waited for a few moments, his face white, his eyes so large he thought they might burst. Eduard calmly spoke with their friends, nodding and agreeing every so often. Raivis couldn't hear what was being said on the other end, but, if Feliks was there, he was sure they were plotting something.

Finally, Eduard finished the conversation. "Okay, see you, bye." He ended the call and looked at Raivis with a gentle smile. "They'll be here on Friday afternoon to help you out."

"What!" Raivis cried, some color finally coming back to his cheeks. "No! No way! I can't make them come see me! Not when the school year has just begun."

"Feliks insists."

"He always does!"

"In his words, he 'like, totally needs to help out Tori's friend and stuff.' Don't worry, Raivis! I only called because I want to help you!"

The Latvian felt a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

* * *

Raivis managed to get through the rest of the week without much incident. He didn't pass out again, and he was able to shake off (no pun intended) a coming anxiety attack. More than that, he was able to make it through his European history class relatively well. He just never raised in hand or spoke in class, not wanting to bring attention to himself. Ivan actually wasn't doing a lot of the teaching for the most part, instead doing things like taking attendance and passing out the homework.

However, Raivis still felt threatened. When Ivan called his name for attendance, he didn't raise his hand or give any notification that he was there. Ivan caught this, smiled, and said, "Little Raivis is trying to hide from me! How cute!" This was met with quiet giggles from the other students, making Raivis blush light pink and sink into his chair. Great. Now Ivan was embarrassing him, too!

When he came home to his apartment with Eduard that afternoon, Raivis found that Feliks and Toris had arrived. The Polish boy immediately wrapped his arms around Raivis in a hug and squealed, "You, like, totes don't have to worry anymore! Toris and I will soooo, like, figure this out for you!" He laughed excitedly and sat Raivis down on his bed. "So! We need to find you a confidence booster ASAP, right? So...what makes you feel confident?"

Eduard face-palmed. "If we knew that, we wouldn't have called you."

"Not to worry!" Feliks laughed, grinning brightly. "I can totally figure it out for him. Just gimme a sec!" With that, he ran to Raivis's dresser and opened the bottom drawer, socks flying everywhere.

Raivis's jaw dropped. "Don't do that!"

Toris nodded and grasped Feliks's shoulders. "Come on, Feliks, that wasn't nice. Apologize...please?"

Feliks turned around to Toris and raised an eyebrow. "You totally need a confidence booster yourself, Tori." He turned back to the drawer and dug through the socks until he came upon something. "Jackpot!" He held up a magazine.

"Raivis Galante!" Eduard nearly screamed, covering his mouth and blushing bright red. "I never would have thought...!"

"Like, calm down, Einstein," Feliks snapped. "It's a fashion magazine...OH, MY FREAKING GOD, IT'S A FASHION MAGAZINE!" He immediately began to look through the pages with anticipation in his eyes. "Holy crap, that jacket is so freakin' FABULOUS! Oh, my God, I _must_ have it. Tori-babe! We're not gonna eat for the next month, but I will look so damn GORGEOUS!"

As Toris tried to convince his fashionista friend otherwise, Eduard looked back at Raivis, who was shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind. "Why can't you just look at porn like a normal teenager?"

Raivis almost passed out again.

Eventually, Feliks gave up on the designer jacket and looked back at Raivis. "Okay, I totally know what I'm gonna do with you," he giggled.

"One question," Eduard interrupted. "Why did you go looking through Raivis's sock drawer in the first place?"

The Polish boy looked at him as if the question were the stupidest he had ever heard. "Like, people keep important shit in their sock drawers, _duh_. It's the one place people, like, don't think other people will look. Like...who would want to look at someone's _socks? _...Well, my socks are totally fabulous, so I can see why someone would TOTALLY want to look at them, but most people don't, like, give a damn about their socks. So they keep their important shit there."

As crazy as the explanation was to the Baltics, it made perfect sense.

Suddenly, Feliks's face twisted in confusion. "Um, I totes now have a question," he announced. "Raivis, why do _you_, like own a fashion magazine?"

Raivis bit his lip, nervous, and looked at the floor. His twitched and said, "I l-like the...I like looking a-at the m-models...BUT I'M NOT A PERVERT! I, uh, I...like...how c-confident they are...I, I...I want t-to b-be them..."

For a moment, everything was silent. Toris, Eduard, and Feliks stared at Raivis, the two former with disbelieving eyes and the latter with a look of gleeful excitement. Feliks bounced in his spot and hugged Raivis.

"I am totally gonna make you _fabulous_. Do you have a credit card?"

"I have a debit card..."

"Close enough! To the mall we go!"

* * *

That night, Raivis had an hour-long phone call with his aunt about why he spent 350 euros in about ten minutes.

* * *

On Monday, he walked to the academy like he always did, dressed in his regular uniform. In his bag, however, was a secret, one he waited until his lunch hour to reveal. He gripped the bag tightly to his chest and ran to the men's room. There, he locked himself in the last stall and opened the bag to reveal its contents.

If nothing else, Feliks really did have fabulous taste.

The outfit was entirely black, but it was stylishly so, and it fit Raivis perfectly. He buttoned the shirt up until the last one at the top, which he left open. A blazer covered the shirt and made his shoulders look broader. The trousers hugged his legs in all the right places and made him look taller. The shoes were shined, and the Latvian could see his reflection in the leather. They even came with a matching leather belt.

Once the outfit was complete, Raivis looked at himself in the mirror and could hardly believe his reflection. He himself had not changed, but he looked so _different_. Taller. Broader. Confident. Like one of the models he idolized. He made a mental note to worship Feliks.

What he didn't know was that Toris, Eduard, and Feliks were watching him as he exited the bathroom. As soon as he did, he started receiving looks from the other students, but they seemed to be impressed rather than confused. Raivis took that as a good sign and started walking towards the cafeteria, but he didn't Ivan there.

Eventually, Raivis did find Ivan, who was standing in front of the doors to the library. The Latvian figured that he was going to do some work over his lunch break, so he started forward.

The walk was absolutely terrifying. It took everything in Raivis's power for him not to run away or freak out or faint on the spot. He started shaking and swallowed a rising lump in his throat as he continued forward. _What if he starts making fun of me again? What if he gets really angry and hurts me? What if he snaps? What if...What if...Oh, my God, I feel like I'm gonna pass out. I'm feeling lightheaded. I...My hands are going numb. I...No..._

Just when he thought he would pass out, Raivis looked down at himself dressed in the expensive clothes. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a shuddering breath. He then opened them back up and kept walking.

_I've been through enough. I grew up in a horrible place and made the decision to move when I was just thirteen. Riga became my home, and then I decided to go to Hetalia Academy. It was my best shot at helping myself. There was no way I could be stopped. I...I can't let anything get in my way!_

_...Changing something about yourself is as easy as changing your clothes._

All of a sudden, he was standing behind Ivan. Swallowing one last time and steadying his nerves, he spoke. "Ivan."

The Russian turned around. "Yes, Raivis?"

"...I have to say something to you."

"...Da?"

Raivis took another deep breath and said, "I want you to stop bullying me."

At this, Ivan's eyes widened. He looked down at the little Latvian, surprised, and tilted his head. "What? I do not understand."

"Don't play dumb!" Raivis suddenly shouted, shocking everyone, including Raivis. "You've been bullying me ever since I came to this school! You squish my head, toss me around, make fun of my height, poke me constantly, and embarrass me in class! You've been bullying me this whole time, and I won't let you do it anymore! Stop it!"

After that outburst, the entire academy seemed to go quiet. Toris, Eduard, and Feliks watched, stunned that their friend had just done that. Raivis was so shy and quiet!

"Where did _that_ come from!" Eduard whispered.

Feliks nearly squealed. "I am _such_ a genius!"

Toris just tried to comprehend the situation.

Ivan stared down at the small boy, quite confused himself. "What?" he asked quietly. "You...think I'm bullying you, Raivis?"

"Yes!" Raivis shouted back. "That's what I said! You're bullying me!"

At this, Ivan let out a high-pitched wail and wrapped his arms around the Latvian. "I am so sorry, little Raivis!" he nearly sobbed, cuddling the boy. Now it was Raivis's turn to be stunned. "I did not know you thought I was bullying you. You should have said something!"

Raivis blinked. "What?"

"You never said anything, so I thought you didn't mind it!"

From his hiding spot, Eduard cocked an eyebrow. "And the passing out wasn't a hint?"

Raivis gently moved so that he could look up at Ivan. "Are you serious?" he asked. "You...weren't just being a bully?"

Ivan shook his head. "I was just trying to have fun with you. I am sorry, da. I did not think I was making you so sad. You really should have said something! I would have stopped!" He frowned and hugged Raivis one more time. "In class today, I promise I will not embarrass you. I do not want you to be scared of me, da. Everyone else is scared of me..."

Raivis suddenly felt bad. He wondered if maybe he and Ivan were a lot more alike than he originally thought. After all, he knew that Ivan had also come from a broken family. There was a rumor floating around that his parents weren't together anymore and that each one lived with one of his sisters, his mother living in Ukraine and his father living in Belarus. There was also another rumor that Ivan actually lived with his uncle, a former KGB officer whose nickname was "General Winter," in Russia. All of that along with the intimidation factor added up to Ivan being quite miserable himself.

Raivis smiled gently. "It's okay. I promise not to be scared of you anymore as long as you stop doing all those things to me."

"I promise!" Ivan agreed, nodding. "And I am sorry again, da."

Raivis felt satisfied. That had gone WAY better than he had originally thought. But now he was faced with a new situation. "Can I ask...why are you going to the library for your lunch break?"

"Oh!" Ivan laughed. "I am here to spy on Ludwig. It's an assignment from Gilbert, da."

"From Gilbert?" Raivis repeated. "Why?"

Ivan grinned. "I am part of the team Comrade Gilbert gathered together to try to figure out why Ludwig broke up with Feliciano. I am one of the Apostles, da! I know that Ludwig is in the library for his lunch break, so I was going to spy on him to see if I could gather any clues. Would you like to come along?"

"...Did you just say that you're one of the Apostles?" the Latvian asked, still confused. "What are you talking about?"

Ivan laughed a bit. "It is a long story. Gilbert heard Feliciano refer to Ludwig as 'Judas,' so Gilbert decided that he was Jesus and that the team he created was a team of Apostles. I do not know if everyone is okay with the religious references, but it makes us sound cool, da! You can be an Apostle, too! We don't have all twelve yet!"

"...Huh?"

"You come along now!"

With that, Ivan grabbed Raivis and dragged him into the library.

Feliks grinned. "Yup. I'm totally a genius."

Inside the library, Ivan and Raivis quietly walked towards the back of the study room and saw Ludwig hunched over a desk. Several textbooks were open, and they could hear the familiar sound of a pen scratching. Ivan silently peered over at the desk but didn't see anything too out of the ordinary.

"Ludwig studies constantly," he whispered to Raivis. "This is a normal scene with him."

"I think it's a little weird," Raivis whispered back. "After all, it's only the beginning of the second week of the school year. Why does Ludwig have this much work?"

Ivan nodded. "You are right..."

Raivis squinted. "I'm going to get a closer look. I think...I'm going to approach him." He was already moving by the time Ivan started to say something. Those clothes were _really_ making a difference.

"Uh, Ludwig?"

The German looked up from his desk and adjusted his reading glasses. "What is it?"

Raivis swallowed and quickly looked down at the desk. An advanced physics book! "Can you explain a physics lesson to me?" he quickly asked. "I'm taking the intro class this year, and I don't understand the first lesson. I don't want to do badly for the rest of the year because of that."

Ludwig shrugged. "Guess so, if you don't want to talk to the teacher." He opened the text book to the first chapter, the review chapter. He went over the first lesson step-by-step and did not notice that Raivis was no paying attention.

Yes, Raivis was taking physics that year, but he wasn't behind in his work, nor did he not understand it. The Latvian scanned the desk table quickly and discreetly, taking in the titles of the books. Then he realized that they weren't all textbooks. There were books on how to write a resume, how to make a good impression, how to find a good job, and the like. However, one book in particular caught Raivis's eye. "How to Avoid Discrimination."

"And that's it," Ludwig finished, snapping Raivis back to the lesson. "Do you understand it?"

Raivis managed a smile. "Better, yes, thank you."

Ludwig nodded and turned back to his work. "Don't fall behind."

"I won't!" the little Latvian reassured him. "Thanks again!" He walked away from the desk and met up with Ivan again. "He has all sorts of books on jobs on the table, not textbooks! And there was even a book on how to avoid discrimination!"

"But that makes no sense," Ivan whispered as the two walked out of the library. "Why would Ludwig of all people be discriminated against?"

Raivis shrugged, just as confused.

Ivan still smiled though. "Thank you for helping me out, Raivis. After class today, we should go see Gilbert and tell him what you found. Maybe he knows something. Plus, my older sister is staying with him, so you'll get to see her."

"I thought your sister was staying in Ukraine," Raivis commented.

Ivan nodded. "She is but, when she heard that Gilbert was hurt, she freaked out and insisted that she spend some time with him. She is his girlfriend now, you know!" He smiled sweetly. "And you should eat something while you're still on your lunch break. I will see you in class later, da?"

Raivis nodded. "I'll be there and I won't faint."

Ivan smiled again and headed towards the teachers' lounge for his own lunch. Raivis watched him go but didn't go to the cafeteria right away. He looked down at himself again and smiled. A simple change of clothes had helped him do so much. Now he was part of the mission to help Feliciano.

Amen, Fashion.

_Amen._

_On the runway, dressed in his best._

_Amen Fashion._

_On the runway,_

_Work it, Black Jesus._

_Amen._

_On the runway, dressed in his best._

_Amen Fashion._

_On the runway,_

_Work it, Black Jesus._

END


	10. Track 10: Bad Kids

**Author's Note:** Short one-shot is short. ._.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Bad Kids**

**I was born a badass.**

Canada was a perfect child. He was quiet, polite, obedient, and never gave anyone a hard time. It was strange, considering the fact that he had lived with France for so long. When he came under England's control, the Briton was actually quite shocked at just how well-behaved he was. Canada only had one slight temper tantrum when he had first come under England's control. That wasn't a surprise. At the time, Canada was too young to understand politics and foreign relations, so France had brought Canada to England during the night. Canada had then woken up in a room he had never seen before, next to America, who was speaking that strange language. The new surroundings had been so overwhelming for Canada that he had broken down in tears for a few minutes. However, he had soon dried his eyes and accepted his new life. He learned English quickly and was a calm, peaceful addition to England's hectic life with America. Then, when Canada declared independence (which he had asked for, not fought for, very politely), he agreed to be part of the Commonwealth. Even in the modern day, he hardly ever complained or even raised his voice. Perfect. The perfect child.

America was your typical child. He had moments when he was a little angel, and he had moments when England swore he was the spawn of Satan. At times, he was well-behaved and sweet, but he could also be rude and rebellious. At a young age, he had become obsessed with freedom. It was the greatest thing in the world to him, because he heard that a lot of countries had very strict control of their colonies. The fact that England didn't control him that much meant the world to him. Of course, when England suddenly decided that he wanted to control America the same way other countries strictly and harshly controlled their colonies, he snapped. He rebelled as a teenager and broke away from his parental figure, refusing even to have ties to him anymore. That was why he had rejected the Commonwealth idea. Since then, he had been his own independent self, even standing above England in the modern world. His life was very much like the average child's life. He was born, he obeyed his parent, he grew up, he rebelled, he broke away, he surpassed his parent. Not the perfect child. An average child. What you would expect a child to do and become.

Other British colonies, like Seychelles, Hong Kong, Cameroon, Uganda, and New Zealand, varied with how they were. A lot of them were further away from England than America and Canada were, so they were mostly left to their own devices as long as they accepted British influences. England didn't have a problem with this. After losing America, it was almost like he didn't care anymore. The other colonies eventually declared independence on their own, sometimes to the point where no one quite knew what the exact date of a country's independence was.

But there was one colony England was desperate to hang onto. He wasn't going to let Australia go, no matter what.

That was a hard promise to keep. Australia was _not_ a perfect child, nor was he an average child.

He was a bad kid.

"WHO IN THE BLOODY HELL DID THIS!" England nearly screamed as a lizard crawled out of his shoe. He wasn't particularly afraid of lizards, but the mere thought of having one in his show was quite unappealing. The scaly creature looked up at the Briton for a moment and then scampered away as if nothing had happened.

England was furious. This had been going on for far too long. He suddenly heard smug snickers and glared at the little boy who was making the noises. Australia grinned at him and ran off, satisfied that his prank had gone just as planned.

"YOU LITTLE BRAT!" England cried, chasing after the boy. "Get back here! You need to be smacked!" He chased Australia all throughout his mansion until he finally grabbed the boy and smacked him across the face. Australia wailed loudly and fought to break free from England's grip. But England wasn't going to give up that easily. He fought back and eventually wrestled the boy down to the floor. "I want you to apologize. Apologize right now!"

Australia just continued to scream until England finally couldn't take it anymore and let him go. The boy ran out of the room with a grin on his face. Success. He had tricked and manipulated his guardian once again.

It was like this constantly. Australia would misbehave, England would try to punish him, Australia would get away. It was an endless cycle.

"Loser!"

"Twit!"

"Selfish punk!"

England was running out of insults. Nothing seemed to faze Australia.

One day, New Zealand asked Australia why he misbehaved so much.

The boy shrugged. "It's fun. It drives the old man bonkers. I like to see him mad."

New Zealand nodded. "Just be careful. England supplies you with everything you need. If you make him too mad, he might abandon you. Then you'll have to survive on your own. There's no guarantee you'll end up as good as America did."

Australia grinned. "Not gonna happen. England needs me too much." He ran off, away from his neighbor, and back to his own room in the mansion. There, he shut the door and frowned. He knew the truth. England only wanted to hang onto him because he was home to the convicts and criminals of Europe. A prison country. That's what he was.

There were times when England tried to deny this. "Why can't you be more appreciative of what I'm doing for you?" he would ask. "I'm spending my valuable time with you when I could be tending to matters back in Europe. It's not easy to get to you, you know! I could easily leave you, but I don't. Why? Because I love you and want you to be productive and successful!"

Horse shit.

As Australia grew up, he became more difficult for England to deal with. It went beyond hiding lizards in his shoes, but it wasn't the same kind of rebellion England had experienced with America. With America, he at least knew what the colony was fighting for. He had no idea of what Australia wanted. None of the other colonies acted this way.

Australia didn't really know what he wanted either though. All he knew was that he loved making England angry. He smoked his local, wild plants, as they couldn't be found anywhere else in the world. He ate strange foods that made England cringe. He brought wild, dangerous animals into the mansion, scaring the bloody hell out of the Briton. He started stealing money and hanging out with the convicts brought to his land. He also ran off to spend time with the Aborigines, much to England's disapproval.

Finally, one day, England couldn't take it anymore. He packed his things and left Australia behind.

"This is your own fault," he told the young man. "I did EVERYTHING for you! I tried so hard!"

Australia rolled his eyes. "I don't care. I know the truth."

England's face grew red with rage. "You know NOTHING! I don't know what in the world you've got going on in your head. I'll bet America messed it up..."

"America didn't mess me up!" Australia shouted. Normally, the young nation was cheerful and happily energetic. Now, he was more furious than England. "You don't realize how much you mess up your own colonies. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! Kids aren't bad just because; they're bad because their parents MAKE THEM THAT WAY!"

England lifted his hand instinctively but didn't bring it down onto the colony's face.

Australia crossed his arms. "What? You're gonna smack me one more time before you leave? What will that do? You smacked me all the time when I was a kid, but it never fixed anything. I still gave you a headache and ruined your life."

England didn't say another word. He just turned and left.

Australia didn't hate England though. He even agreed to be part of the Commonwealth. He was just bitter. "He made me this way, even though he didn't realize it," he one day said to New Zealand at a World Meeting. "It's not entirely his fault, too, I guess. The majority of my country is wild and untamed. Plus, I was built with European criminals. It's no wonder I'm this way."

New Zealand smiled. "I'm proud of you for staying part of the Commonwealth."

"Again, I never hated England," the Aussie continued, grinning. "I'm just a bad kid."

Suddenly, a loud scream rang throughout the building. All the nations looked up and stared at England, who had backed himself into a corner, staring at his briefcase. When the other nations looked, they also screamed and backed away. Even Germany was on the verge of freaking out, as he was clinging to Italy just as much as Italy was clinging to him.

Several snakes slithered out of the suitcase.

England stared at Australia, who winked, smirking.

"Old habits die hard, mate."

_I'm a bad kid, and I will survive._

_Oh, I'm a bad kid._

_Don't know wrong from right._

_I'm a bad kid, and this is my life._

_One of the bad kids._

_Don't know wrong from right._

_Don't be insecure if your heart is pure._

_You're still good to me if you're a bad kid, baby._

_Don't be insecure if your heart is pure._

_You're still good to me if you're a bad kid, baby._

_A bad kid, baby._

_(Don't be insecure.)_

END


	11. Track 11: Fashion of His Love

**Author's Note:** In general, I tend to write faster and better when I know that people care. If I don't get any feedback on something, it feels like no one gives a crap. I don't want to sound like one of those crazy fangirls who only writes if she gets a million reviews per chapter, but your feedback is extremely important to me. I decided to write _Born This Hetalian Way_ because you guys loved _The Hetalian Monster_ and _The Hetalian Fame_ so much. I also don't profit from writing anything here, so I'm motivated purely by my fans. Remember that I love you guys so much and want you all to enjoy what you're reading! Please, please, PLEASE let me know you're out there and having a good time!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Fashion of His Love**

**I was born an empire.**

He wasn't an island nation. Why was nobody contacting him?

Turkey wondered this as he sat at the World Meeting table one afternoon in Tokyo. He watched the crazy antics of his fellow nations, unamused. They had started the meeting by talking about what they could do to fix the world economy, but that had quickly spiraled into a blame game with a lot of finger-pointing. America swore it wasn't his fault, causing England to do a spit take with his scalding hot tea. He cried out in pain and accidentally spilled the rest of the tea on Russia's scarf, which caused the large man to kol menacingly. Lithuania tried to hide under the table, but Poland immediately dragged him back to his chair to ask his opinion on how good he would look in the new Alexander McQueen dress he saw in the magazine he was reading. Germany was about to scold Poland for the magazine when he realized that his brother Prussia had snuck beer into the meeting and was presently chugging the huge glass while Denmark cheered him on. Italy screamed when he saw the gigantic troll spirit appear behind an angry Norway and started to wave his white flag. He further screamed when Hong Kong set off fireworks behind him. Taiwan smacked her head down on the table and started begging for peace. Hungary was caught between comforting her and trying desperately not to react to Romania, who kept squealing about the new Harry Potter movie. Despite the meeting taking place in his country, Japan never said a word, and Switzerland held a gun to his head for that, demanding that he speak up. Liechtenstein just smiled and commented on how cute the cat sleeping on Greece's head was, not mentioning that Greece himself was also sleeping.

_Little brat,_ Turkey thought bitterly._ Every single one of them. Ridiculous. I'd rather be dancing to the drums on the streets of Ankara, not dealing with this!_ His eyes scanned the table and landed on Japan, who was starting to sweat, as Switzerland's gun was still up against his head. _Or I'd rather be in Harajuku with Japan._ "Oi, Swissy!" he called. "Leave Japan the hell alone! He didn't do anything to you!"

"He's pissing me off!" Switzerland shouted back, loud enough that Turkey could hear him over the racket of the other nations. "Why the hell doesn't he ever speak his mind? It's driving me crazy!"

"I would appreciate it if you lowered your gun, Switzerland-san!" the little Asian suddenly insisted, very politely. "If you are okay with that, that is!"

Switzerland rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Japan! You're even too polite when begging for your life!" Regardless of his obvious irritation, he lowered his gun. "But that's a bit better at least. You're getting better. Shall I test you again at the next meeting?"

"That was a TEST?" Turkey asked, completely stunned. But he couldn't say anything further. Austria had finally had enough, and he slammed him palms down on the keys of the piano in the corner of the room. This caused the entire room to go silent, except Prussia, who was suddenly so drunk that he swore he could see Old Fritz's ghost in the room. Ukraine dragged him out of the room, constantly apologizing to the other nations.

Once the two were gone, Germany cleared his throat and announced that the meeting was over. The nations stayed relatively quiet as they left, and Turkey could tell that Germany was mentally scolding all of them. "NOW you're quiet?" he could tell the blond wanted to shout. But Turkey stayed silent, too. He got up and walked out of the room, twitching slightly when he heard Japan wake Greece.

Turkey didn't know what Japan saw in that little brat. He was so much more interesting and manly, in his mind anyway. He saw Greece as too dependent on his mother. In fact, it was widely believed among many nations that Mama Greece was much more famous than modern Greece. All Greece spent his time doing was sleeping, philosophizing, taking care of cats, and drinking ouzo! What was so great about him? Turkey thought he was much more interesting. The famous empire of his history had been all him with no parental figure to support him. He had built it up, and he had survived despite its fall. Plus, he was so much more worldly than Greece, having gone all over Europe, Asia, and Africa. His influence was _everywhere_. Greece? Just...Greece. And maybe the Greek population of America. That was it, according to him anyway.

And yet...Japan was in love with Greece.

Contrary to his attitude and personality, that fact was making Turkey rather insecure. He was such great friends with Japan. The little Asian had once saved his ass! Since then, Turkey had done everything in his power to make sure Japan knew how much he appreciated him. T-shirts, keychains, pins, posters, tourists loved that shit! Japan had seen such things on his trips to Turkey's country, and he had said repeatedly that he liked them. However, it wasn't enough to make Japan fall for Turkey.

He had fallen for Greece.

And it wasn't like Turkey was unsure about that. He had a _video_ of the two of them _screwing_ on his _phone_ to prove it.

And the worst part? It was _hot._

...Did that make him a pervert? Or a voyeur?

Turkey shook these thoughts off and trudged back to his hotel. As soon as he opened the door and took his mask off, an idea struck him. He was in Tokyo, which was the same city where he had had his little encounter with Japan and Greece that one night. They had been dressed up in their Visual Kei clothes, which meant that Japan was into fashion and fashionable people...

Turkey had never run to a shopping center so fast in his entire life.

* * *

It was a Friday night. Turkey was dressed in his brand new Visual Kei outfit. He knew where Japan's house was. Now all he had it do was wait. He quietly sat outside in the shadows and kept his eyes on the door and windows, careful not to be seen. Somehow, he felt like he was breaking a law. Was this a crime in Japan?

He couldn't think about that though, not when he looked this good. He was wearing a dark, textured, elaborate coat that reached down to his boot-clad feet and dragged a bit in the back. The design of the coat itself was classic and gorgeous, but the design within the coat was even more amazing. Many patterns and little details were woven into it, along with lace around the cuffs and the edges of the train. The cuff links were clear, bright crystals. Around the collar of the coat were several roses made of fabric that wrapped around him. He also wore a top hat complete with more patterns, fabric roses, and crystals. It felt amazing. He felt like he was living the high life during his Ottoman Empire days, a lavish, luxurious lifestyle when he wore only the finest of clothing and was admired by everyone who saw him.

Suddenly, Turkey heard a click. He looked up to see that Japan and Greece had left the Asian's home, also dressed in their own Visual Kei outfits. Turkey had to pause to admire how they both looked, because they were both just so damn fashionable. Greece looked something like a pirate, with a frilly, three-cornered hat upon his head and a black patch over his left eye. His hair had not been dyed, and he didn't wear a wig. Instead, his hair was tied back with several crystals adorning the strands. His black shirt with puffy sleeves was open, revealing his Mediterranean sun-kissed chest and abs. Several belts, all different, some studded, some plain, some garnished with more crystals, wrapped around his waist and pants, which were shredded around the ankles. They revealed his chunky, black boots.

And Japan...Turkey couldn't believe his eyes. Japan looked like a _stripper._ He had extensions in his hair, which were tied up into pigtails complete with plaid bows. His makeup was done so that his face looked sweet and feminine. A black, velvet choker with a large, red ruby in the center adorned his neck, and there were matching bracelets around each of his wrists. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just a black vest that showed off his smooth abdomen. Turkey could easily see his belly button. A plaid schoolgirl skirt rode dangerously low on his hips and came up short on his legs. Over his legs were thigh-high, fishnet stockings with straps that rose up underneath his skirt. Classic, black heels were on his feet.

He looked so damn _gorgeous._

However, Turkey hadn't spent so much money on new clothes and hidden out in the darkness like a creeper just to ogle Japan. He had to steal him back! _He_ was the one made for Japan, not Greece! And, if nothing else, he had to do _something_ to get back at Greece. He had been the one who had recorded that little session on his phone, no doubt. There was no way in hell Japan would _ever_ put sex on display.

...At least not in a place other than Akihabara.

...Or his anime.

...Or his manga.

...Or his video games.

...Or his...okay, maybe Japan _did_ have a little habit of putting sex on display. But that didn't mean he had been the one who had put that show on his phone! No way!

Shaking these thoughts off, Turkey followed to duo into the busy streets of Tokyo, down to the Shinjuku district. So that was where the club destination was that night. However, Turkey noticed that Japan and Greece were entering the club through the back. Whatever. He entered through the front door like everyone else and waited for the duo to appear on the dance floor, at the bar, anywhere. Turkey decided to sit at the bar himself, in a seat where he could see just about everything.

And then, out of nowhere, Turkey saw Japan and a few other people in Visual Kei outfits take the stage. Greece suddenly appeared in the front row of the audience, his eyes constantly on Japan. Turkey watched, stunned, as the music started. Japan was playing the electric guitar on the side of the stage while another guy, he thought it was a guy anyway, singing lyrics he couldn't understand. Whatever, he wasn't interested in the singer. He was more interested in Japan and how he was _rocking out._ Seriously, he was playing that guitar so intensely, so passionately, whipping his head around and stomping his feet to the beat. The sweat beads rolled down his face and body, making him shimmer on stage. All that along with the stripper outfit was way too much for Turkey.

And then, suddenly, it ended. Japan and his band stopped playing, instead absorbing the excited applause from the audience. The crowd was cheering, going absolutely crazy. It was obvious that this was not the first time Japan had played, nor was it the first time he had played at this club. Turkey could _feel_ his mind being blown.

He turned to the bartender. "Something strong," he muttered in Turkish. The bartender couldn't understand his language, but he could understand his expression just fine, and he placed a shot down on the bar. Turkey downed it.

"...Turkey-san?"

He turned. Holy crap, Japan recognized him!

"Uh...hi, Japan."

Smooth.

"What are you doing here?" Japan asked, blushing bright red. He suddenly seemed more aware of what he was wearing, as he turned away and tried to cover himself.

Turkey didn't know how to reply. What was he supposed to say? "I followed you here in an attempt to steal you away from Greece." No, that would never work. That was just creepy. But he did have one very particular thought.

"How did you recognize me?"

Japan looked around nervously. "I have to be able to distinguish my band mates from other people. I have gotten really good at recognizing people underneath their makeup and clothes." He looked towards the stage to make sure Greece wasn't there. That would be far too awkward. As if this wasn't awkward enough already!

"I-!"

"This is very much unlike you, Turkey-san," Japan murmured. "I know that you are a fan of fashion, but you are not a fan of Visual Kei fashion or music. I do not understand why you are here. And...you are at the same club where Greece-san and I are! The chances of that are..."

Turkey bit his lip. Japan was catching on. "I'm...I'm not here to..."

He had nothing to say.

Japan lowered his head. "You stalked us."

"I didn't!" Turkey snapped back. "I just...!"

"You realized...it was us...on your phone."

Turkey swallowed hard, nodding.

Japan shook his head slightly. "That was a terrible idea."

"Greece made you do it, didn't he?" the Turk asked, taking a hold of Japan's shoulders. Japan looked up with fear in his eyes, staring into Turkey's eyes full of rage. "I know it, he _must_ have, that sex-crazed fiend! He sees you as just an accessory in his life, nothing more! I wouldn't, Japan. You wouldn't be just an accessory to me!"

At this, Japan yanked himself away from Turkey's grasp and took a few steps back. He glared at the man before him. "It was _my_ idea," he hissed. "Don't blame Greece-san for things he did not do. _I_ persuaded _him_ to record the session, but we did _not_ intend to go all the way. But we did! And now we have to live with it!"

Turkey's jaw dropped. "No way," he gasped, his eyes wide. "Impossible..."

"It's not. It's the truth."

Silence.

Japan's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Turkey-san. I love Greece. I won't ever cheat on him."

Turkey lowered his head. "I thought I was the one for you. I thought I had been made for you." He sighed dramatically and turned, heading out of the club. "If you ever break it off, you can always come back to me." With that, he walked out of the building and out onto the lonely streets of busy Tokyo.

Greece suddenly appeared at the bar. "There you are," he said, wrapping an arm around Japan. He smiled. "You were amazing up on stage. I heard the manager say he wanted your band back again."

Japan looked up at the man and smiled back. "Thank you, I think this was our best performance yet."

"Seconded."

They kissed.

"Let's dance."

* * *

A week later, Turkey was back in Ankara. He sat in his home, listening to the music playing outside in the streets. That was what he had originally wanted. Now he just wanted to go back in time and stop himself from ever following Japan. What a stupid idea that had been.

Reluctantly, he picked up his phone and looked through the saved videos. He came upon the most recent one, the recording of Greece and Japan, and deleted it. There was no more use in keeping it, considering the fact that Japan probably never wanted to speak to him again.

As soon as he put his phone down, Turkey heard the daily mail slip through the mail slot. He sighed, standing, and picked up the series of letters lying on the floor. Junk mail, he figured. Whatever.

But then, there came a letter addressed to him that was sent from Japan. Without thinking, Turkey ripped the letter open and pulled out a ticket. "VIP," it read. "Friday, March 4, 2011. ONE NIGHT ONLY."

There was also a letter.

_Turkey-san:_

_You looked incredible in that coat. Which designer was it? I want something like it for myself! Please wear it to the concert. My band and I are the opening act._

_Sincerely,_

_Japan_

Turkey grinned. He still had it. It wasn't the love he wanted, but it was love. That was good enough for him.

He suddenly didn't regret spending all that money on the coat. And, if it got him VIP tickets to Japan's show, he could learn to love Visual Kei fashion.

_I'm seeing all the sights from above._

_I'm gonna be the one that he loves._

_I was made for loving him._

_The fashion of his love._

_(Oh yeah!)_

_I'm gonna be his first and last kiss,_

_'Cause, honey, I was born to be his._

_I was made for loving him._

_The fashion of his love._

END


	12. Track 12: Highway Unicorn Road to Love

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for leaving me your thoughts and feedback! You have no idea how much I appreciate it. Keep them coming! I hope you continue to enjoy!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Highway Unicorn (Road to Love)**

**I was born a little brother.**

"GET OUT OF THE WAY! GET OUT OF THE FRIGGIN' WAY!"

"PATIENT COMING IN, SEVERE ALCOHOL POISONING!"

Norway ran into the emergency room at top speed, trying to keep up with the doctors and nurses as they rushed Denmark down the hallway to a room. Before he could get too far, he felt several hands reach out and grab him pulling him back. "LET ME GO!" he screamed, kicking at the air as he tried to break free from his fellow Nordics. "LET GO! DEN NEEDS ME!"

"Please, stop it, Norway!" Finland begged, clutching Norway's right arm and pulling him back. "You can't go in there with Denmark. The doctors won't let you! Let them do their job!"

"THEY CAN'T SAVE HIM!" Norway screamed back, still staring at the swinging doors that led to the hallway where the doctors and nurses had disappeared with Denmark. He was sobbing hysterically by this point, and his magical friends had even appeared to try to stop him. He ignored the trolls and fairies, pathetically still trying to break away. "They can't save him..." he repeated, this time much softer. "He's going to die. I...I want to be with him in his final moments."

Iceland shook his head sadly. "Now you're just being ridiculous," he murmured, pulling his brother up. "This won't kill Denmark. He's a nation. Things like this can't kill him."

Sweden nodded. "C'lm d'wn. D'n will be 'kay." He loosened his grip around Norway's torso since the smaller man was finally starting to calm down.

As soon as the Nordics' grips were loosened, Norway fell to his knees in a sobbing pile on the floor. He brought his palms to his eyes and cried his eyes out, hating himself and everything he had ever done or said to Denmark to make things come to this. He ignored the fairies trying to cheer him up, and he drowned out anything any of the nurses or other patients were saying to him.

"It's all over," he whispered. "Denmark is going to die...

Iceland felt like crying himself. "Nor..."

"I love him..."

* * *

The nurses didn't let Norway stay in the waiting room until he had finally calmed down. Calm was relative though. By Norwegian standards, he was still hysterical, crying pathetically and hiccuping every so often. It terrified the other Nordics to see him like that. Norway was usually the calmest, the most held-together of them all. The fact that he had broken down so quickly and passionately was disturbing, but it also meant something extremely important. Norway was more human than any of the other nations thought.

Iceland was the most surprised. His frozen-hearted brother was a mess, let out the most extreme of emotions like it was nothing, like he did it all the time. The raw fear that had come from him, evident in everything from his facial expressions to the mindless ramblings he had been spouting out earlier. Iceland got the feeling that Norway was regretting his earlier rant, based on how well he knew his brother alone. Norway was always telling Denmark not to say stupid things, so the fact that he had gone and screamed nonsense was probably leaving him with a feeling of humiliation.

That didn't sit well with Iceland. He didn't want his brother to feel that way, since he already felt like this whole incident was his fault. That was the other thing. Norway didn't take blame well. He was able to admit when he had made a mistake, but that hardly happened since Denmark usually had that covered. It was usually Norway's job to scold the Dane for his idiotic actions and words, but the roles had suddenly been reversed.

"Den probably hates me," the Norwegian suddenly whimpered, burying his face in his hands. "He hates me...because he thinks I hate him..."

Iceland looked over at his brother and frowned. "You don't know that," he insisted.

Norway shook his head. "No, I do..."

The two heard footsteps come towards them. They both looked up to see Sweden and Finland together with Sealand, who was clutching at his father's coat. He looked to be quite devastated as well. "Uncle Denmark..." he choked out as a tear ran down his cheek.

"Hush, Denmark will be fine," Finland tried to reassure him, kneeling down so he was at the same level as his son. "We just need to give him time, and the doctors will help him."

"He's 'lso a n'tion," Sweden added, looking away from the two of them. "He w'n't d'e."

Norway shook his head. "Just because a nation has never died of something like this doesn't mean it's impossible."

Iceland nudged him. "Not in front of Sealand," he muttered. "You'll only upset him."

Norway looked away angrily, refusing to reply.

Finland sighed. "Norway, we came by because the hospital wants us to leave," he explained. "We've been here for hours, and visiting hours are almost up. If the doctors want to tell us anything, they'll call us. We've given them our numbers."

Norway glared up at him. "I'm not leaving until I see Den face-to-face. They called these 'visiting hours?' No way. They're not visiting hours if we can't visit Den."

"But the doctors said that no one can visit him right now..."

"I'm practically FAMILY!"

Sweden narrowed his eyes. "N'w y'u fin'lly 'dmit 't."

"...What?"

"Y'u've sp'nt yer l'fe den'ing 't."

"Why you-!"

"HEY, HEY!" Iceland interrupted, stopping the neighboring Nordics. "Look, the last thing we need right now is a fight. If we fight, we'll get kicked out of the hospital even quicker. Plus, we don't need any added stress. Once news of this gets out to the rest of the nations, the whole damn world could fall into even more chaos. Let's just try to be calm here!"

Norway rolled his eyes. "Says the one with the active volcanoes constantly erupting."

Finland cleared his throat. "I think that this is enough," he said, taking his husband's hand. "Let's go home, Sve. Iceland and Norway can get home on their own." He tugged slightly at the hand, motioning towards the doors that led to the parking lot. Sweden got the message and tried to lead Sealand towards the door.

"Hold on," the little boy said as he turned towards Norway. He slowly and steadily extended his arm out and took his uncle's hand in his. "It's not your fault," he said quietly, "and Uncle Denmark will always love you."

Norway didn't react until the family was gone. He started to tear up again, and the droplets fell down his cheek silently. Iceland looked over and sighed. He hated to see his brother like this.

He cleared his throat. "...Dear Big Brother."

Norway gasped and turned. "What?"

"Dear Big Brother," Iceland repeated. He looked back at Norway. "Sealand is right. Denmark will never hate you, no matter what you do."

"I don't believe you," Norway replied firmly, a few tears still running down his cheeks. "Denmark has every right to hate me, because I made him think that I hated him."

Iceland shook his head. "That might be true, but Denmark isn't the kind of person to hate. I don't think he's ever hated any of his war enemies." He smiled a bit. "Maybe because he was too caught up in the moment to hate."

The tiniest of smiled cracked on Norway's face. "Yeah, that annoying idiot..." he agreed. Now he was more comfortable. This was much more like it, the way things normally were.

"But...you know what?" Iceland added. "I don't think that Den cares about any of your shortcomings or the things that others don't like about you. I think he likes everything about you, even the things you don't like."

Norway was quiet for a moment, processing these ideas. He let out a sigh and looked up. "You think so?" he finally asked.

Iceland nodded. "Yes, I do. Remember that one time he rode his motorcycle down the street with his shirt off and his and your flags taped to his chest?"

"Sadly, yes."

"He kept shouting how much he loved you the whole time. Remember that?"

"...Sadly, yes."

"Oh, come on," Iceland almost laughed, "you loved it."

Norway rolled his eyes. "Did not. What an idiot he was."

Iceland grinned. "That's just his way of showing the world how much he loves you. He's never been afraid to make a statement, at least as long as I've known him. I'm assuming that he was that way before I came along, too." His grin widened when his brother nodded. "So doing ridiculous things like that is just his way of expressing love. The road to love is different for everyone."

Norway suddenly frowned and looked away. "And harder for some."

Iceland nodded. "Yeah, it can be hard to love. And, sometimes, you're lonely in your search for love." He smiled again. "But then, once you find that love down that road, it makes the journey all worth it."

"How the hell do you know so much about love?"

"Don't ask."

"I already have."

"I'm still not answering."

Norway rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You fascinate me sometimes."

"I try, Dear Big Brother."

"Okay, now you're just mocking me."

* * *

The days passed by slowly. Every single day, Norway came into the hospital in Copenhagen. He hadn't been home to Oslo the entire time, and he forgot about every single one of his duties as a nation. The other nations couldn't really blame him. Even Norway's boss let him go. "There are a few things in this world more important politics," he had said.

Iceland, Sweden, Finland, and Sealand took turns staying with Norway at the hospital. The Norwegian particularly liked spending time with Sealand, as the little boy held his hand the entire time they were together. The innocence was sweet.

One morning, Iceland walked into the waiting room, only to see his brother waiting by the door. He frowned. It had been almost a week. He was starting to think that maybe Norway had been right about Den possibly dying...No, he refused to think that. He sat down next to his brother and set Puffin down in his lap. "You're here early."

"I couldn't sleep," Norway replied. "I just...I just felt like I should be here early today."

"Well...!"

At that moment, the door to the waiting room opened. Norway and Iceland looked up at the doctor who looked back down at them. "Are you two here for Mr. Den?"

"Yes!" Norway replied quickly, jumping in his seat. "What about him?"

The doctor smiled. "He's stable."

"Oh, thank Thor..."

"And he's awake. Would you like to see him?"

Norway gasped and jumped to his feet. "Yes!" he cried, brining his hands to his mouth. A few tears fell down his cheeks. The doctor smiled and led him out of the waiting room, down the hall, and towards Denmark's room.

From the waiting room, Iceland could hear his dear big brother crying and Denmark laughing it all off.

He grinned. "Get ready, Puffin, someone's falling in love."

"...We get drinks?"

"When this is over, we'll all drink together until we die."

_We can be strong._

_We can be strong out on this lonely road._

_On the road to love._

_We can be strong._

_We can be strong._

_Follow that unicorn on the road to love._

_I'm on the road._

_I'm on the road to love._

_I'm on the road._

_I'm on the road to love._

END


	13. Track 13: Heavy Metal Lover

**Author's Note:** Crack. Historical crack. SO MUCH HISTORICAL CRACK. XD

In other words, this is not meant to be taken seriously...at all, but I had a great time planning/writing it. I hope you get as much of a kick out of it as I do. Have fun.

Also, this site needs a "crack" option under the Genre category. Seriously.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Heavy Metal Lover**

**I was born to rule.**

As a member of Prussia's Royal Family, Frederick II had to marry. That was a truth that could not be changed or altered in any way, regardless of what Frederick wanted for himself.

His father had suggested he marry Elisabeth of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, who was the niece of Empress Anna of Russia. More than anybody else, Prussia was opposed to this. "_My _future king ain't marrying any of _Russia's_ royalty!" he had shouted at Frederick William as soon as the man had made his suggestion. In this case, Prussia had Prince Eugene of Savoy on his side, who also opposed the marriage, as Russia was not his ally, nor did he have any interest in making Russia his ally. At this, Prussia beamed. "Even though he's Austrian, he's way more awesome than I thought!"

Frederick didn't have much of an interest in Russia either. In fact, most of Russia's Royal Family hated him and the rest of Prussia's Royal Family, so he was actually glad that he wouldn't have to put up with any Russians in his familial life. Prussia himself agreed with the Crown Prince all too eagerly.

But Frederick still needed to marry. The young prince knew he wasn't going to get out of it, no matter what he did or said. _And, hey, when I'm King,_ he thought, _I'll be able to do whatever I want with my relationships. Hey, wait..._

Prince Eugene was Austrian. Prussia hated Austria and all his leaders, past, present, and future.

Frederick was a very smart man, but he was also a manipulative bastard who liked to see those he did not like sweat. Hell, he even liked watching Prussia sweat, just for the fun of it. The albino was so amusing when he was freaking out. Additionally, Frederick had his own thoughts about who should be in charge of a nation and how a nation should be run, so the thought of messing with someone who opposed his ideals was also quite appealing.

So, in the middle of a meeting between the royals, Frederick made a suggestion.

"Why don't I marry Maria Theresa of Austria?"

This was not a spark. This was a bomb going off for all Prussians and Austrians.

Prussia stared at the prince. "...WHAT?"

Frederick grinned. "I meant exactly what I said. I think it would be a good idea if I married Maria Theresa. It would put us on better terms with Austria, don't you think?"

"I don't want to be on better terms with that prissy aristocrat!" Prussia shouted, throwing a temper tantrum right there in the room. His cheeks were pink and puffy, and he pouted childishly, frustrated. "What _the hell_ could make you want to improve our relationship with _Austria_ of all bastards?"

Frederick just shrugged, still grinning. "The more allies, the better, right?"

Surprisingly, Frederick William did not react violently to his son's statement, contrary to how he usually reacted to his son's words. Instead, he tapped his chin thoughtfully and nodded a bit. "You make a good point." He turned to Prussia, whose jaw had dropped. "Get over yourself. It's definitely an idea worth considering." With that, he left the room with the other men present, planning on making a trip to Austria to discuss the matter with King Charles VI.

As soon as they were gone, Prussia turned and stared at his future king, his jaw on the floor and his eyes bulging.

Frederick turned to him and smiled. "Problem?"

* * *

Maria Theresa was not happy when she heard about the proposal. Not happy at all.

"You want me to marry...Prince _Frederick_ of..._Prussia_?" she asked her father, unable to believe what he had just said. She looked at Austria, who was obviously both distressed and confused. His mouth hung open, and a strange squeak emerged from it. As soon as it did, he shut his mouth and looked back at Maria Theresa, who was still in shock from her father's statement but was now wondering how Austria had made that strange squeaking sound.

Charles nodded. "King Frederick William, his son, and Prussia are on their way here to discuss the matter." He raised an eyebrow at his daughter. "You...don't like the idea?"

"I do not even know where to begin!" the sixteen-year-old girl cried, looking back at her father. "Aside from the fact that our religions are completely different, I cannot _stand_ that arrogant, evil man! And he is _Prussian_, Father. I did not think we were interested in forging such ties with Prussia." She turned back to her nation. "Were you?"

Austria didn't want to risk making another squeaking noise, so he just shook his head.

"See!" Maria Theresa looked back at her father. "Besides, Frederick disapproves greatly of the fact that I am next in line for the throne. For all we know, this could be some ridiculous scheme! We have been fighting against Prussia for _ages_. How could we possibly go along with anything Prussia or one of his leaders says?"

"Let us at least entertain them," Charles insisted, sighing heavily. "No one said we had to agree to their proposal. After all, I like the idea of you being married to Francis Stephen, but perhaps this will at least give us another option to think about."

Austria couldn't hear what his leader and future leader were saying anymore. He just followed Maria Theresa when she left the room, assuming that the meeting was over. She actually stormed out of there, obviously distressed. She turned back to her nation as soon as she was well enough away from the room that her father couldn't hear her. "Marry a Prussian! What a stupid idea!" she snapped. "I can't possibly think of anything more ridiculous. That evil man must be plotting something. I wouldn't expect anything less." With that, she stormed off again, leaving Austria alone.

That was when Hungary appeared. "What was that about?" she asked.

Austria sighed, finally regaining his voice. When he was sure he wouldn't make another squeaking sound, he spoke. "Prussia's Crown Prince has offered to marry Maria Theresa."

"What!" Hungary exclaimed, taking a step back. "That's crazy!"

"Yeah..."

"We can't agree with Prussia on anything."

"Yeah..."

"And we always fight!"

At this, Austria's eyes widened. He inhaled sharply and turned to Hungary, who was staring back at him, now quite confused. He seemed to be confusing all the women in the palace that day. Clearing his throat, he looked at Hungary, a sort of excited glint in his eye. "I just had an epiphany."

"Huh?" Hungary cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"This is exactly what we need," the Austrian explained. "You just said so yourself. We've always argued and fought with Prussia."

"Yes..."

"So, if our leaders marry, we'll never have to go to war with him again!"

Hungary gasped, eyes wide. She looked as though she had just been told the meaning of life. "So that means that..."

"That we have to do everything in our power to get them together!"

* * *

"I am _not_ writing that."

Hungary frowned. "You were the one who suggested this in the first place! You have to write it!"

Austria groaned, already exasperated. "I am not writing a _pick-up line_ directed towards my princess."

"It's not supposed to be from you! We're trying to make it sound like it was from Frederick!" Hungary snatched the quill pen from the man. "Come on, this was all your idea. If you don't want to write it, at least tell me how to write a line in German. You know I don't speak it."

Austria played with his glasses, trying to avoid the situation. When he had suggested trying to get Frederick and Maria Theresa together, this had not been what he had in mind to do so. This was all Hungary. "That's the other thing," he mused.

Hungary raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Pick-up lines are filthy and vulgar in the first place. But a pick-up line in German? Oh...that's too awkward to be legal."

Hungary threw her hands up in the air. "Then I'll write one in Hungarian!"

"Frederick doesn't _speak_ Hungarian!"

"That's his problem!"

Austria slapped his palm against his face. He had already had enough. "War with Prussia would be easier than this," he muttered, snatching the quill pen back from Hungary. "_Fine_, I will write something out in German." He proceeded to do so, a bright blush appearing on his face.

Hungary smiled mischievously. "Don't forget to make your handwriting look like Frederick's."

"Yes, yes..."

"And then I've got something in mind for the one from Maria Theresa!"

"Oh, God..."

* * *

When Prussia, his king, and his crown prince finally arrived, the welcoming was warm, if not slightly awkward when Maria Theresa came to greet them. She didn't say a thing to any of them, content to stay silent until spoken to. She mentally breathed a sigh of relief when the men walked by her without a word, moving on to speak to her father. She didn't care if it was disrespectful; she didn't want them in her country, period.

Austria noticed this as he stood next to Hungary, watching the Prussians walk towards them. "Are we sure this was a good idea?" he just barely whispered to her.

"It was _your_ idea," she whispered back, keeping a straight face. "If it fails, I'm blaming you."

"What!"

"Hey, Specs," Prussia snickered, "did I interrupt?"

Austria turned towards the albino and frowned, a slight blush staining his cheeks. "No," he choked out, "nothing at all."

Prussia grinned. "Oh, really?" He looked at the Hungarian next to him. "Tell me, what did you say that got Specs here all riled up?"

"Save your idiocy," Hungary snapped, frowning. "Our conversation is none of your business."

At this, Frederick stepped up. "I do not appreciate you talking to my nation in such a way," he said, looking down at Hungary with obvious disapproval in his eyes. "We are your guests. You should treat us with more respect." His eyes wandered over to Charles and Frederick William, who were already discussing the proposal. He looked back at Hungary. "For all you know, I could be your king." He smiled in a way that seemed rather sincere, but the mocking arrogance was written all over his face. Prussia just smirked and followed his prince as soon as he left the two.

Hungary's cheeks were red with suppressed rage. "On second thought, war with Prussia _would_ be a lot easier."

But there was no going back by this point. The messages had been set in places where Austria and Hungary knew Frederick and Maria Theresa would find them. Now all they had to do was wait.

* * *

The two knew that Maria Theresa had found hers when they heard her sputtering incoherently and making odd squeaking sounds herself.

"My GOD!" she cried, blushing bright red as she read over the message. "What is...? Oh my...No, no! Absolutely not!"

Frederick's reaction was a bit more subdued. He was just plain confused.

"Well..." he trailed off, looking around the room, somewhat embarrassed. "Hmm..."

"What?" Prussia asked, looking over his prince's shoulder. He read over the note and blushed a bit himself. "Man! Who would have thought that prissy Four-Eyes's princess would have such a _vocabulary!_" He burst out laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach, tears sprouting from his eyes as he nearly fell on the floor. "Oh, my God, this is so rich! That bitch wants you _all over her!_"

Frederick narrowed his eyes. "This isn't that woman's handwriting."

"What!" Prussia stopped laughing and straightened up, looking rather disappointed. "It doesn't? Damn! I was hoping-!"

"I _know_ what you were hoping," the prince groaned before Prussia could finish. "My God, I can't believe this." He marched out of the room and headed towards Maria Theresa's room, meeting her half-way there. He found her red cheeks amusing, and he tried his hardest to keep a straight face.

"You are a vulgar, _evil_ man!" the princess cried, throwing the piece of paper on the floor. "How DARE you write such a thing to me! Have you no respect? Have you no _shame?_"

Frederick smiled slightly. "I didn't write it. But...no, I don't really have either of those."

The answer just infuriated Maria Theresa more, but she kept what little cool she had left, glaring up at the man before her. "You are obviously planning something," she growled. "Even if our fathers can't see it, I know it. You did _not_ suggest to marry me just because you wanted to improve relations between our nations."

Frederick nodded. "You're right. I didn't."

With that, he walked off, past Maria Theresa, not meeting her eyes. The princess balled her hands into fists, feeling a flame burn inside her. The anger boiled over to the point when she couldn't take each other. A kitchen servant happened to walk by at that time, and the princess grabbed the first thing she could off the cart. The servant yelped in surprise when she ran down the hallway with a frying pan in her hand.

"GET BACK HERE!"

Frederick turned his head around, and his eyes widened.

"Oh...SHIT!" He ran down the hall as fast as he could, Maria Theresa hot on his heels and swinging the frying pan back and forth, aiming for his head. The two quickly passed Austria and Hungary, who watched in stunned awe.

Hungary smiled. "I think it's going well!"

"YOUR MAJESTIES!" Austria nearly screamed, running down the hall after the two royals. Hungary followed behind him, trying to keep up.

_SMACK!_

Austria paled and stopped short, causing Hungary to bump into him. They were just outside a balcony, where Maria Theresa looked rather satisfied. Frederick, on the other hand, had a red patch on the side of his forehead.

"Listen to me," Maria Theresa hissed.

Frederick rubbed the injured spot on his head. "Why should...!" He froze when the woman raised the frying pan again. "Okay, OKAY!" he agreed. "Spit it out! What do you want to say?"

Maria Theresa lowered the pan cautiously, frowning bitterly. "I know why you offered to marry me," she began, keeping her venomous gaze on the man before her. "However, if you would like to forge positive ties between Prussia and Austria and Hungary, then I am willing to accept your proposal. Sadly, love does not have a lot to do with marriage. I can hate you and still be married to you, making a new ally out of your country." She paused. "But...there is something you should know."

Frederick returned her gaze. "What would that be?"

Maria Theresa glared right at him, her eyes set blazing with fury. When she spoke, there was no hesitation in her voice. It actually sent shivers down Austria's and Hungary's spines.

"I plan on ruling the world. If we marry, you will take no power from me."

At this, Frederick smirked. "Is that so?" he asked lightly, mockingly. "Well then, I guess my proposal is doomed to fail." Forgetting about the frying pan, he walked up to Maria Theresa and looked down at her, still smirking. "Little girls don't belong anywhere near the throne."

"Neither do evil men."

Frederick shrugged. "You want an evil man? Be thankful you're not in charge now, during my father's reign." He walked past the woman, stopping when he was back inside the palace. "You could have avoided war, you know. If we were married, I would take what I wanted from you with little to no fighting. It's not like you would have been able to do anything about it anyway."

"I'd rather fight a million wars and lose them all than degrade myself by submitting to _you_."

Frederick grinned. "If that is what you'd prefer, I shall see that it happens." And he walked off, content.

As soon as he was gone, Maria Theresa turned and walked back inside the palace. She was still upset and insulted, but she felt something incredible burning inside her. It was like the raging fire from before, but it energized her. It felt amazing. She felt like she could do anything.

That included making Frederick regret the day he made an enemy out of her.

Austria and Hungary were cautious when they approached her. The man adjusted his glasses and spoke quietly. "Your Majesty?"

"Here." Maria Theresa held out the frying pan for Hungary, who took slowly took it. She looked up at the princess curiously. "It's a great stress-reliever," was all the princess explained. Content, she walked back towards her bedchambers, ready to sleep for the night.

Hungary looked down at the pan and then back up when she heard footsteps behind her. She and Austria turned to see Prussia, looking extremely confused. "What just happened?" he asked. "Where did Fritz go?"

Austria sighed. "This was a horrible plan. Why did I even think of this?"

"Huh?"

"By the way," the Austrian continued, "Prussia, I have a question for you. Frederick...is he even interested in marrying at all?"

"Pfft, no," the albino replied, rolling his eyes. "As if. Getting hitched sucks. And, uh, I think that marriage isn't the _only_ thing Fritz isn't interested in."

Hungary perked up at this. "What?"

"You heard what I said," Prussia muttered, looking away, embarrassed. There was a slight flush on his cheeks. "First Katte, now...never mind. My prince's..._preferences_ are none of your business."

Austria could _see_ Hungary's brain short-circuiting. She stared at Prussia, back at Austria, then back at Prussia, trying to suppress a squeal. "Prussia...you..."

Prussia looked away again, the blush still on his cheeks. "It's nothing."

"...Austria."

"Yes?"

"I think I might switch sides."

"What!" the aristocrat cried, staring at the woman before him. "What are you TALKING about!"

_Prussia wants to sleep with his future king, and I need to record it somehow,_ Hungary thought. But then she shook her head. "Never mind. Now...about this..." She looked down at the pan and then looked back up at Prussia, eyes wide. "It makes perfect sense!" she exclaimed.

Prussia was about to say something but quickly forgot his words when Hungary started charing towards him. The albino scrambled backwards and then ran at full speed down the hallway, shouting something about how un-awesome and bitchy Austro-Hungarian women were, as Hungary chased after him, frying pan raised high above her head. Austria just smacked his forehead.

Just down the hallway, Charles bit his lip, having just witnessed the entire scene.

"...He's not Catholic anyway," he reasoned with himself. He paused for a few moment, contemplating his options. Finally, he nodded and headed to his own bedchambers.

"Yeah, I like Francis Stephen much better..."

_Whip me, slap me, punk funk._

_New York clubbers, bump drunk._

_Budlite liquors, bar slam._

_Move it, this is your jam._

_Wash the night with St. J-ameson._

_Like a baptism,_

_Heavy Metal Lovers play because we were born this way._

END


	14. Track 14: Electric Chapel

**Author's Note:** We're back in Gakuen Hetalia!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Electric Chapel**

**I was born innocent.**

"Stay right here, Lillie. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yes, Big Brother."

Vash nodded and headed into the club meeting room, where the rest of the Apostles and Gilbert were waiting. His younger sister sat outside the room in one of the folding chairs from another room, hands in her lap and waiting patiently.

Vash's younger sister, the girl he called "Lillie," was a first-year student at Hetalia Academy, and Vash obsessed over her. He was a protective person by nature, but he was especially overprotective of Lillie. "Lillie" wasn't even her real name. It was a nickname he had given her in order to protect her, though he never mentioned from what.

Aside from just being an older brother, Vash was overprotective of Lillie because she was his adopted sister. Biologically, he was an only child. After a complication with Vash's birth, his parents found out they couldn't have anymore children. They had decided to adopt a baby born to a teenage mother. Lillie was born in Liechtenstein but raised in Switzerland with Vash and his family.

Lillie listened to everything Vash said and obeyed all his directions. She felt, deep down, that it was the least she could do for the boy who had welcomed her into his life. Vash absolutely loved Lillie, though he would never say it out loud, and Lillie adored him with all her heart. She appreciated how much he wanted to protect her and how much he wanted to keep her safe, so she never complained about his overprotective nature or the constant attention she received from him.

When the school year began, Vash had been Lillie's guide (read: "guard") throughout the campus, escorting her to all her classes. Since that first day, he continued to do so. In a case like this, when he needed to meet up with anyone, he always brought Lillie with him, keeping her close but not in the room.

That didn't mean that Lillie didn't know what was going on.

"It's been two weeks since Raivis found out about the books West was reading," Gilbert groaned, obviously displeased with the lack of clues found as to why his brother had broken off his relationship with Feliciano. "No one has seriously found out anything since then? Are you guys doing what we agreed to do?"

"You mean what _you told us to do_," Roderich shot back, frowning and crossing his arms. "And, _yes_, we are doing what we need to do. This isn't as easy as you make it sound, Gilbert."

"Don't get all smart with me, Specs!" the albino snapped, sending a venomous gaze to the Austrian. "I'm pissed off. It's been _three damn weeks_ since West broke up with Feli, and we don't know shit! Either you guys aren't doing your jobs, or West isn't cracking."

"It's not like you ordered us to interrogate him," Elizaveta sighed, rolling her eyes. "Spying and sneaking around only work if you catch the target at the right time."

"Then we'll all just have to follow West constantly!"

"And skip all our classes. Brilliant."

Vash let out an irritated groan. "This would be so much easier if you would just let me shoot him."

"You're not shooting my brother!"

"Why not? It would get him to talk!"

"Because he'd be scared for his life!"

"EXACTLY!"

"Break it up, _please_," Francis nearly begged. "I can't take all this fighting. Hetalia Academy is depressing and stressful enough with all this tension and lack of _amour_ between Ludwig and Feliciano. We don't need anymore added negativity."

Antonio nodded. "It's like the school is populated entirely by little Lovi copies..."

Kiku paled. "Um...Antonio-san? Does Lovino-san...know about the situation?"

The Spaniard nodded again. "_Si_, and he couldn't be happier."

"Does he know that you're trying to figure out why this happened and that you're hoping to get them back together again?"

"_Si_, and he couldn't be angrier at me."

Gilbert smacked his palm against his forehead, and the group could see him deflate. "We're not talking about Lovino," he muttered. "That guy is hopeless. This is Feli here. Feli needs us. He's been a sobbing mess for the past three weeks, and West doesn't give a shit. He's apparently not talking either."

"That's what you said earlier," Raivis interrupted quietly. Even though his confidence had risen since he had confronted Ivan, he was still rather shy. He sat next to the Russian and looked up at him. "When Ivan and I found out about the books on his desk, it wasn't because he said anything. I had to see it for myself."

"Da," Ivan agreed, nodding. "If Raivis had not approached Ludwig, we wouldn't know what we know. Ludwig is not speaking. We were just _lucky_."

"So, obviously, Feli doesn't know anything either," Gilbert sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. "Great. Just wonderful. This is going nowhere."

Outside the room, Lille frowned sadly and looked down at her hands. "I wish I could do something," she whispered. "It wouldn't just make Big Brother happy; it would make everyone here happy!" She looked up towards the stairs leading down to the club rooms and immediately smothered the gasp that threatened to escape. There was Ludwig, walking right by the area. She watched him turn and head towards the guidance counselors' offices.

Lillie paused for a moment before getting up and quietly following him. _Forgive me, Big Brother,_ she thought, _I don't mean to disobey you, but this might be my best chance to help!_ She kept her tiny footsteps silent as she followed the German and waited around the corner of the area with the guidance counselors until she heard him be welcomed by one of them.

"Come in, come in!" she heard the man say warmly as she turned the corner. "Sit down, we have a lot to discuss." She stood next to the door, completely still, away from the office window, figuring that, even if someone saw her, he or she would just assume that she was next in line for an appointment.

"How have your classes been going for the past three weeks?" the guidance counselor asked.

Ludwig was hesitant in his reply. "Can I close the door?" he asked.

"Would you feel more comfortable talking if I did?"

Lillie didn't hear a response, but she assumed that Ludwig had nodded, because the door quickly closed. She bit her lip. It was harder to hear their conversation, so she leaned up against the door. _I feel horrible,_ she thought, _but it's to help Big Brother and Feliciano. It's okay, just stay quiet._ Now she was praying that no one would find her, because her current position was much more suspicious than her previous one. She kept her ear against the door and her eyes on the hallway.

"The classes have taken up a lot of my time," she could faintly hear Ludwig say. "I didn't think they would be this hard, too."

"Well, that's what happens when you take all the advanced classes that are normally only offered to seniors," the guidance counselor said back. "Are any of them too hard for you?"

"No, I'm still getting straight As."

"I wouldn't expect anything less! That university back in Berlin you're looking at will be so impressed."

Lillie's eyes widened. _What?_

She could hear Ludwig clear his throat. "I think that company will be, too."

_Oh, my God..._

"Ah, yes! Them, too!" the guidance counselor agreed. "You're working on your applications to both places, right?"

"Yes..."

"Good! Hm, anything wrong?"

Lillie nearly gasped. _No, no! Don't notice me!_

"I've just..." Ludwig began, "...been distracted lately."

There was a long pause in the room before Lillie heard the guidance counselor speak again. The man heaved a great sigh. "Priorities, Ludwig. Sometimes you have to give up what you have in order to get what you want. Don't let yourself get distracted by that kid you were seeing. Things are better this way."

This time, Lillie did gasp and she quickly covered her mouth. Thankfully, neither one of the men in the office seemed to have heard her.

"Besides," the guidance counselor continued, "that Feliciano Vargas isn't that smart. His grades and academic rigor are nowhere near as advanced as yours are. You'd be better off meeting a nice, smart, German girl back in Berlin. It would be a lot less complicated."

There was a long pause. Lillie waited for what felt like forever, even though it was only about ten seconds. She inhaled sharply when she heard Ludwig's reply.

"...Yes."

She then heard what sounded like chairs moving and quickly backed away from the door, quietly running down the hallway just in the nick of time as the office door opened. She watched from a corner as Ludwig thanked the guidance counselor and left, closing the door behind him. He started walking down the opposite end of the hallway but stopped just before he reached the corner. Lillie heard him swear in German, and he punched the wall next to him so hard Lillie could feel the aftershocks all the way at the other end. After another moment of silence and stillness, he started to walk again, turning the corner and disappearing from Lillie's sight.

The young girl could hardly believe her eyes and ears. "Oh, my God," she panted, "did I...did I just solve the whole mystery?" With this thought, she ran back to the meeting room, soon hearing shouting and the sound of a gun clicking. Oh crap.

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY SISTER?"

"WHY WAS I NOT INVITED, BROTHER?"

Lillie nearly jumped when she saw the scene. Vash was holding a gun to Natalia's head while the Belorussian tried to break free from his grasp and grab her brother. Ivan, meanwhile, cowered in the corner and held Raivis up as his shield. The rest of the group just stared.

"Vash," Roderich deadpanned, "I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to have a gun on campus."

"I DON'T CARE!" the Swiss boy nearly screamed. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY SISTER?"

Lillie squeaked. "Big Brother?"

Vash looked up, eyes wide. "Lillie! What did this crazy bitch do to you!"

"...Nothing. Why?"

"Natalia somehow made it into the meeting room again," Gilbert sighed. "Mr. Frilly-Panties-in-a-Knot here freaked out and thought she had kidnapped or murdered you or something."

"It's the only way she could have made it past Lillie to get into the room!" Vash reasoned loudly, still holding the gun to Natalia's head. He suddenly blushed bright red. "And don't bring that up, you bastard! That was a ONE-TIME DEAL!"

Roderich cleared his throat. "Quite the shocking deal as well..."

Kiku smiled. "You were so cute, Vash-san."

"NO, I WASN'T! SHUT UP!"

"And it wasn't really a one-time deal. You wore that outfit to the dance last year, too."

"SHUT _UP!_"

"And I still have the photos saved on my laptop..."

Vash gripped the gun in his hand even harder, and Lillie could hear his teeth grinding. "Kiku Honda," he growled, "you are going to die a very slow, very painful death..."

Lillie smiled. "I thought you were cute, too, Big Brother."

Vash kept silent. He couldn't tell his dear little sister to shut up.

The whole group was silent until Elizaveta coughed. "Um, Vash, I think we would all appreciate it if you lowered your gun and let Natalia go."

Raivis and Ivan shook their heads violently. "NO, WE WOULDN'T."

Vash snorted. "Then get a head start. _Then_ I'll let her go."

The two didn't need to be told twice. Raivis and Ivan ran out of that room faster than Alfred ran to the nearest fast food restaurant when he visited his home in America while on break. After a few seconds, Vash let Natalia go, and she sped after them just as fast, screaming for her brother to stop and marry her.

Antonio pursed his lips. "Too bad Heracles isn't here. Then he could get all of them into the Olympics."

Francis nodded. "_Oui,_ they would definitely get gold medals for their countries."

Vash rolled his eyes and put his gun back into his backpack. "Whatever," he muttered, "come on, Lillie, time to go home."

Lillie tried to protest, but Vash took her hand and started leading her out of the building before she could say anything. He looked tired and aggravated, so she kept silent for a few minutes, waiting until they were away from the academy and on their way to the small home they rented together. That was when she spoke. "Big Brother?"

Vash sighed. "What is it?" His tone was somewhat annoyed, but it was gentle and understanding to Lillie, who was used to her brother's short temper.

Lillie gripped her brother's hand. "Um, I want to tell you why I didn't stay in my seat like you told me to. I'm really sorry about that, but I have reasons."

"I'm not angry at you if that's what you think," her brother replied. "You don't need to explain yourself."

"...No, I do," Lillie insisted. "Big Brother...I was spying on Ludwig."

Vash stopped mid-step and stared at his little sister, eyes wide and disbelieving. He swallowed hard and unconsciously squeezed her hand. "...What did you say?"

"I saw Ludwig walk by and decided to follow him, since I heard you saying that no one had found any clues as to why he broke up with Feliciano. I...He didn't say or do anything interesting. Someone else did."

Vash shut his mouth tightly and started walking again, urging Lillie to follow. "Don't say anything else until we get home," he whispered. "I don't want anyone else hearing this and telling Ludwig that you were spying on him. I don't even want to think about what might happen to you."

Lillie nodded and kept quiet until she and her brother made it home. She was nervous about what she would reveal. It was a big deal! A major bombshell! But she knew she had to say something. She watched her brother lock the door and pull the shades over the windows. It was overprotective, yes, but Lillie also found it sweet how much her brother wanted to protect her.

Once Vash was done, he motioned for his sister to sit down in one of the chairs in the living room. She did so and he sat down across from her. "Okay," he said firmly, "what did you hear?"

Lille swallowed before replying. "A lot of things," she replied quietly. "I heard him talking to his guidance counselor. Um, all his classes this year are advanced classes that usually only seniors are allowed to take."

"Really?"

"Really."

Vash bit his lip. "Now that you mention it, he _is_ in a few classes with me, and all of those classes _are_ for seniors only."

"And," Lillie continued, "he is applying for two things: a university in Berlin and a job with a company there."

Vash's eyes widened. "But he's only a junior! And it's only the beginning of the year! That makes no sense!" He stopped short. "But...it does explain all those books on the desk from when Raivis and Ivan were spying on him..."

"I think he's planning on graduating early."

"...Really?"

Lillie nodded. "And I was so angry at the guidance counselor. He said horrible things about Feliciano."

"Like what?"

"He said that he wasn't smart and that it was better that Ludwig wasn't with him. Ludwig agreed with him."

Vash's eyes widened with rage. Lillie watched as his hand began to shake. "Bastard..." he growled out, clutching his knee so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

Lillie looked down. "But..."

Vash stopped. "But what?"

The girl looked back up. "After Ludwig left the guidance counselor's office, he swore and punched the wall. He seemed so angry and defeated. Then he left, looking miserable." Small tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. "I don't think he liked what the guidance counselor said. I don't think he truly agreed with him."

"Oh, my God..." Vash pressed his palms together and rested his forehead against the tips of his fingers. He heaved a great sigh and said, "Thank God I had you sit outside the room, and thank God you followed Ludwig." He looked up at his sister. "I'm sorry, Lillie. I shouldn't be so overprotective of you. You can obviously take care of yourself."

Lillie smiled gently. "It's okay, Big Brother. I like that you want to protect me from all the bad things in the world."

Vash leaned back in his chair. "So now what? I guess I call Gilbert and tell him what you've told me."

"Wait a second, please," Lillie murmured, "Big Brother, I think I know what to do next."

Vash straightened. "What?"

The girl smiled. "I want you to organize a school event like the dance last year."

Vash could feel his heart breaking in his chest. He looked away for a moment and then back at his sister, sighing. "Lillie, things like that take time and money. I can't go back to that maid cafe and raise the funds for an event overnight. And the school year just started, so there's no way we can have an event so early."

"But now we need to work to get Ludwig and Feliciano back together!" Lillie argued, actually raising her voice a bit. It surprised Vash, who was used to her quiet, sweet voice. "Big Brother, you can do _anything!_ And, if you can't, there must be a way you could get help to make something happen! Feliciano and Ludwig need a safe place to make up. Ludwig needs to confess what he's done and apologize to Feliciano. They need to be able to admit that they love each other again. An event might bring them back together!"

"And if it doesn't?"

"...I don't know."

Vash nodded solemnly. "That's exactly it. I'm sorry, Lillie, I wish I could do what you want me to do, but I'm just a student. I might be the student organizer for events, but I can't do everything."

"Oh!" Lillie gasped in realization. "What if you asked one of the other Apostles for help?"

Vash sighed. "Some of them are only student teachers, not actual teachers. They don't have much power in the case of something like this." He frowned at his sister's disappointment and leaned over, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Lillie. Don't you worry though. I'm going to do everything I can to work this out. I'm going to call Gilbert and tell him what you told me. Maybe he or one of the others has an idea. You did a good job, Lillie. I'm very proud of you. Consider yourself one of the Apostles."

Lillie nodded. "Thank you, Big Brother."

"You're welcome. And thank you again."

With that, Vash let go of Lillie's shoulders, picked up his things, and headed towards his room, cellphone in hand. Lillie stayed in her seat, looking down at her hands sadly.

"One of the Apostles," she murmured, counting them on her fingers. "Let's see...Francis, Antonio, Roderich, Elizaveta, Kiku, Big Brother, Ivan, Raivis, Ludwig since he's Judas, and me. That makes ten of us." Her frown deepened. "We're missing two. Those two...would probably be the ones who could help us create this place for Ludwig and Feliciano." She stood and walked to the window, opening it to reveal the bright afternoon sun. Her brother's words echoed in her mind as the sunlight washed over her.

_"Lillie, things like that take time and money. I can't go back to that maid cafe and raise the funds for an event overnight. And the school year just started, so there's no way we can have an event so early."_

"You'll see, Big Brother," she murmured. "If we can't do it alone, I'll find people who can. I will find the last two Apostles."

She closed her eyes gently.

_Meet us there, Feliciano._

_If you want me, meet me at Electric Chapel._

_If you want me, meet me at Electric Chapel._

_If you want to steal my heart away,_

_Meet me, meet me, baby, in a safe place._

_Come on, meet me in Electric Chapel._

END


	15. Track 15: The Queen

**Author's Note:** We're still in Gakuen Hetalia!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: The Queen**

**We were born influential.**

As much as Lillie tried, she couldn't pay attention in her philosophy class. Her mind wandered aimlessly, as she couldn't even focus on her situation outside of class. She silently prayed that Ms. Karpusi didn't notice.

The day prior, she had suggested to her brother Vash that he organize an even in order to get Feliciano and Ludwig back together. She at least wanted to get Ludwig to confess what he had done and apologize, but if he agreed to go out with Feliciano again, it would make things perfect. As much as Vash had liked the idea, he knew it was impossible to do in a short amount of time.

The other Apostles didn't have any ideas either. The news of Lillie's discovery had spread quickly, leading to an impromptu meeting in Vash and Lillie's house late yesterday evening. Praise for Lillie died down quickly, as everyone suddenly realized that they had no next step in their plan.

"We never came up with a way to get them back together," Gilbert had said, burying his face in his hands. He had then sworn in German and continued, "Huh...we put the pieces of the puzzle together and don't know what to do with it."

Lillie had kept silent the whole time, thinking, _Who are the last two Apostles?_

The next morning, Lillie had walked to school with Vash, as she usually did. This time, however, Vash did not escort her from class to class. He left her on her own, giving her the perfect opportunity to talk to people, students and student teachers alike.

However, because of Vash's overprotective nature, she had never really met anyone. To walk up to someone and ask him or her about organizing an event was too awkward. _I don't want to be thought of as a fool, _she thought.

There were a few people she had been able to talk to. Arthur split his student teaching with Francis in the home economics department. Lillie was taking his sewing class and asked him for help after the bell had rung.

"Organize an event for Ludwig and Feliciano?" he had asked, quirking a thick eyebrow. "Lillie dear, I have no control over school events like that. I can only teach people how to embroider."

Lillie would not give up. "Do you know anyone who could help me?"

"Is Francis making you do this?"

"Um...he does want to see Ludwig and Feliciano back together..."

"I'm not working with that bloody, sodding frog on ANYTHING!" the Briton had exclaimed. "Even a good cause! Forget it, I refuse. I already have to put up with that git on a daily basis because of his cooking classes. Ludwig and Feliciano can take care of themselves."

Next, Lillie had run into Sadiq in art class. He was studying art history at a university in Ankara and student teaching for both the studio art and art history classes. After ceramics class, Lillie asked to see him.

"Hmm..." he had pondered, "...that sure sounds like something I could possibly help with. I love a good party. It could be something fun for the students."

"Yes, yes!" Lillie had agreed, nodding. "So you'll help us? And I need another person, too. Um, do you think maybe Heracles? You seem to know him."

The Turk had rolled his eyes. "Pfft, of course I know that little brat. That doesn't mean I work well with him."

"Oh, I just thought..."

"If I have to work with him, forget it. He'd just sleep and make me do all the work, like he did for group projects when we were students here." Sadiq had then shooed Lillie out of the room without hearing her response, claiming that he had to clean the room up for his next class.

Lillie had then run into Eduard on her way to math class. He had been on his way to his own, and it was the same advanced calculus class Ludwig was taking. Lillie stopped the Estonian on her way to her own algebra class.

Eduard had refused the offer right away. "Raivis and Ivan are trying to get them back together, I know, but I just can't be there."

"Why not?"

"Raivis was afraid of Ivan. I..."

Lillie had nodded right away, cutting him off. "I apologize for asking you to take part in any group that could involve Natalia. I won't ask you again."

"Thank you..."

Lillie had tried to ask Alfred for help during lunch, but she had not been able to understand anything he had been saying, thanks to the giant, homemade hamburger shoved in his mouth. She had quickly given up on him and walked off, completely oblivious to the fact that Matthew had been sitting next to her the whole time and had said, several times, that he would be willing to help.

Lillie had then run into the student teacher from the Netherlands, who was helping out in the economics department. When she had asked him if he knew a way to work things out, he had nodded but had also refused to say anything.

"Why can't you tell me?

"...Trade secret."

She had not bothered asking his younger sister, who was a student in his class. She had been hyper off the chocolate she had eaten for lunch.

All that had left her feeling rather frustrated and disappointed. Now that she was sitting in her last class of the day, she realized that she was quickly running out of options and ideas. She didn't know that many other people, and none of the other Apostles were willing to help her out with her mission. Of course, none of the other Apostles knew about what she was doing.

_If I tell them,_ she thought, _they'll tell me to stop._

At that moment, the bell rang, and the students began to file out of the room, done for the day. Mr. Karpusi waved to them and wished them a good afternoon, reminding them to do the assigned reading for class the next day.

Lillie got up to leave when the teacher stopped her. "Ms. Zwingli," she began, "sit please. I'd like to speak with you."

Lillie's stomach dropped. With a look of guilt in her eyes, she sat back down in her seat and sighed sadly. "I am very sorry, Ms. Karpusi," she said timidly. "I tried to pay attention in class today, but I was distracted. I'm very, very sorry."

"Lillie, you sound like you're going to cry," the teacher sighed, taking a chair out from another desk and sitting down next to the young girl. "Please don't. I'm not upset with you. I just noticed that you weren't your usual self in class today. I was wondering if anything is wrong."

Lillie looked up at her teacher shyly. She glanced to the side for a moment before shaking her head. She waited and then looked back up at her teacher. "Not with me," she murmured. "Someone else."

"Oh, are you worried about Feliciano?"

Lillie nodded. "I want to try to get him and Ludwig back together. I believe that Ludwig still loves him."

Ms. Karpusi frowned. "Are you acting on this alone?"

Lillie mentally gasped. Her eyes widened and she stared up at her teacher.

_You!_

"No, I'm not," the young girl replied, her voice suddenly passionately, if slightly desperate. "I'm one of ten people working together to get Ludwig and Feliciano back together. And...we need two more people to join us. I...!"

"Hey there, sweetheart!"

Lillie and Ms. Karpusi looked up to see Ms. Hassan standing in the doorway. The Egyptian woman smiled brightly, appearing ready to go out. "Classes are over! Ready to go?"

The Greek woman eyed her. "Where?"

"For cocktails, of course!"

Ms. Karpusi rolled her eyes. "I'm in the middle of a meeting with a student here," she sighed. "And I don't feel like going out for cocktails tonight. It's not even Friday! I'll go out with you over the weekend."

Ms. Hassan shrugged. "Your loss. Later!"

"Wait!" Lillie cried, stopping the Egyptian woman before she could leave. "Wait, Ms. Hassan, I want you to hear this. Maybe you can help me, too." She bit her lip and hoped the teacher wouldn't think she was rude.

"Hmm? What's up?" The teacher took a chair from one of the nearby desks and sat down across from the student. She crossed her arms over the back of the chair and rested her head on top of them.

Lillie let out a small sigh of relief. _I pray I've found you,_ she thought, turning to the two teachers. "I want to ask you both to become part of this group. I am one of the...Apostles."

"'Apostles'?" Ms. Hassan repeated, eyes widening. "As in...THE Apostles?"

The young girl squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to figure out how she should continue explaining the situation. She didn't want to offend or confuse the women before her. "It's a long story," she finally said. "Okay, let me see if I got this right...Feliciano referred to Ludwig as 'Judas' after he broke up with him, so Gilbert decided that he and a group of his friends would be Jesus and The Apostles. I'm one of The Apostles, but we're short by two."

"Who else is in this group?" Ms. Karpusi asked, desperate to understand the situation. "I want to help you, Lillie, but I'm afraid of what Gilbert is organizing here."

"It's nothing to be scared of!" Lillie insisted, a hint of fear in her eyes. She didn't want to lose either of the potential Apostles, and she didn't want either of the teachers to think she was crazy. "It's just a metaphor, I swear. Um, Francis, Antonio, Roderich, Elizaveta, Kiku, Big Brother, Ivan, Raivis, and me are the Apostles working with Gilbert. Ludwig is Judas so he's technically one, too. That leaves two left. And we need these last two to do something for us."

Ms. Karpusi held her breath. "Which is?"

"To organize an event where Ludwig and Feliciano can make up."

Ms. Hassan blinked. Once. Twice. "And you guys can't do it alone," she finished, realizing the situation. "Even with all those student teachers, you guys can't put together an event."

"Which is why you need us," Ms. Karpusi added. "Or at least two people with a higher status in this school."

Lillie just nodded, completely silent. She was slightly horrified at what she had said. It was so unlike her to talk that much, and she feared angering or disappointing her brother...or both. She wasn't sure if everything she had just said was okay to say. What _would_ her brother say if he found out..._when_ he found out. Plus, Gilbert and the others weren't expecting Lillie to continue with her plan. For all she knew, they already had other plans.

Ms. Karpusi let out a sigh, snapping Lillie back to reality. "Thank you for sharing this with us, Little," she said, closing her eyes lightly. "You can go home now."

Lillie, not knowing what else to do, nodded and stood. She gathered her things and left the room to meet with her brother. They had a meeting with Gilbert and company.

Ms. Karpusi opened her eyes once the girl was gone. "I take back what I said earlier. I need a cocktail."

Ms. Hassan nodded quickly. "Oh yeah, that is necessary."

* * *

Two Cosmopolitans at the local bar later, the two teachers decided that they had had enough. They still had classes the next day, after all. Ms. Karpusi rested her elbow against the bar and set her face in her palm, letting out an exasperated sigh. Ms. Hassan groaned and rolled her head back.

"This wasn't included in my academic plan when I was getting my Masters in teaching," the Egyptian woman muttered. "There's no class for handling teenage drama in grad school, but there should be."

Ms. Karpusi shook her head. "Even if there was, it wouldn't cover something like this."

"Pfft, yeah. Excuse me, which way to How to Join a Religion-Inspired Group Set on Getting Two Gay Students Back Together in a Loving Relationship 101? This is required for my degree."

"...I need another Cosmopolitan."

"You sure are drinking a lot for someone who didn't want to go out!"

Ms. Karpusi slammed her head down on the bar. "I just don't know what to do!" she nearly screeched. "Do we have this kind of power? Can we set up this kind of event? We _just_ started teaching. This is literally our fourth week of it! I don't know how things like this work! And poor Lillie...she's depending on us so much."

"Hell yeah, you could tell just by looking at that girl," the Egyptian groaned, crossing her arms down on the bar and resting her head there. "We didn't agree to anything, but she is desperate for us to help. I can't say 'no' to that girl! She's too innocent and sweet! Plus, I think Vash would shoot us if we did. ...I really don't think he's allowed to have a gun on campus though."

"I feel like a bad teacher. I'm already a bad mother."

"What!"

"It's true."

Ms. Hassan straightened up and stared at her friend. "Where did _that_ come from?" she snapped. "Why would any of this make you a bad mother?"

"I can't do anything for _any_ kid," she almost sobbed. "My own son...I feel so bad. His father and I divorced when he was so young, and I didn't spend all my time with him. I decided to focus on my career, and I mostly left Heracles to himself."

Ms. Hassan cocked an eyebrow. "But...Heracles is a good kid. Look, divorce is really rare in Egypt, but Gupta's father and I did it anyway. I also decided to focus on my career, and Gupta turned out fine! He's a good kid, too! He's at a university studying archaeology, and he's doing pretty well. I figure that, as long as my kid didn't get arrested, didn't get a girl pregnant, and did everything in school he was supposed to do, I did okay. Last time I checked, Gupta had a pretty good track record. And, from what I understand, Heracles did everything he was supposed to do and nothing he wasn't supposed to do. Sounds like you did a pretty good job to me."

The Greek woman looked up at her friend, appearing as though she was about to cry. "Really?"

Ms. Hassan nodded. "You do that a lot, you know that? Blaming yourself for dumb shit. Every time you gain strength and start to feel good about yourself, you call yourself a bitch or whatever and shut down. Not cool." The Egyptian smirked. "And, if you truly feel that way, then this is your chance to do something for these kids."

Ms. Karpusi's eyes widened. "You...?"

"Let's head back to campus. Rome and Germania are still working."

"And the money for an event?"

"It'll have to be burned. Whatever. The school will get over it."

* * *

The next morning, Lillie and Vash walked onto campus, both in low spirits. The meeting with Gilbert the day before had yielded no results, as no one had had any new ideas. Lillie had stayed silent the entire time, not sure of what to say. She had not told any of The Apostles of her meeting with the teachers.

"Do you have any tests today?" Vash asked, making small talk. He looked away awkwardly, holding his sister's hand loosely. Part of him didn't really care about her answer.

Lillie shook her head. "Not today." She walked through the main entrance of the school with her brother and headed towards her first class when something caught her eye. She looked at the wall next to the entrance and gasped, letting go of her brother's hand and running to the poster hanging there. Vash was about to protest when he noticed it, too. He ran to it and stood next to his sister, eyes wide.

"Oh, my God," he gasped, "Lillie..."

Lillie's smile lit up her face. "I found the last two Apostles yesterday, Big Brother."

THIS WEEKEND:

HETALIA ACADEMY MIXER

MEET NEW STUDENTS AND NEW FRIENDS!

_I can be the queen that's inside of me._

_This is my chance to release and be brave for you._

_You'll see._

_I can be the queen you need me to be._

_This is my chance to be the dance._

_I've dreamed it's happening._

_I can be the queen._

END


	16. Track 16: Yoü and I

**Author's Note:** I have been looking forward to writing this track since the first time Gaga performed the song on The Today Show over a year ago, which explains why this track is so damn long (I've had a lot of time to think about it and work the other related tracks around it!). The moment I heard this song, I decided on the story and the performer. So yes, I've been waiting to write this track for over a year, and I think it's safe to say that it's one of the most highly anticipated of all the tracks.

This is Prussia's story, the sequel to "Summerboy," and the finale of the "Speechless" timeline.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Yoü and I**

**I was born awesome.**

He wouldn't stop crying.

Prussia hugged his sobbing brother tightly, pressing his head down onto his shoulder and letting the tears stain his jacket. He didn't care; he was just happy to be able to hold his darling brother again. He couldn't stop his own tears from falling either, despite his best efforts to be calm and awesome. It was difficult though. So many thoughts and feelings swirled inside him, and he didn't know what to feel.

Was he happy he was home? No, it wasn't home. It wasn't Prussia. It didn't exist anymore, and it would never come back. It was Germany. This city was still Berlin, but it was Germany's Berlin, not Prussia's. It would never be his city again. This was his new home. At least it wasn't Russia, he rationalized. Anything was better than that. But his heart still felt empty, like a hole was still very obviously there.

Whatever. What he was feeling wasn't important, at least not at the moment. He held his brother and let him cry, let him release forty-two years of emotions that had been bottled up so tight nothing could set them free. Nothing except the return of his brother, the completion of his country.

It was awkward as they sat there on the floor of Germany's bedroom, next to his bed. Even kneeling, Germany was still taller and larger than Prussia, and, with his back facing the doorway to his room, anyone who walked by would think that he was tackling his older brother, not clinging to him like a toddler who had just been reunited with his mother after getting separated and lost in a busy mall. And someone would never guess that Germany of all nations would ever cry in his brother's arms. Not Germany.

But he wasn't Germany in that moment. He wasn't even a nation. Neither was Prussia. They were just brothers, nothing more.

Prussia wanted to say something but didn't know what. His mind raced with words he could say, but he didn't even know what he wanted to mean. He didn't know what he wanted. For Germany to let go of him and stop crying? For Germany to hold him and cry into his shoulder forever? For the two of them to have some kind of conversation? About what? About being separated? About World War II? About the Cold War? About the miraculous fall of the Wall that had taken place less than an hour earlier? About Prussia's time under Russia's rule? About how Germany had changed so much since they had been separated? About how happy Prussia was to see his little brother again? Anything?

No, this was already a conversation. Germany was saying so much with just his tears, with just his arms around his brother. He had already said everything he had needed to say with words anyway.

_"Ich liebe dich."_

"I love you."

And...oh, then Italy had started crying, sobbing about how those three little words were the first Germany had spoken in those forty-two years since the brothers' separation. Prussia suddenly hated himself. How dare he make his little brother do that. He couldn't believe that he hadn't taken his brother seriously when he had made that threat back in 1947. He should have known better. This was Germany after all, a nation who never made empty threats. Prussia had taught him that a long time ago, back when he was small. Prussia suddenly wished his brother was small again, so that he could pick him up in his arms and hold him completely, fold his arms and hands and fingers around him and comfort him the way he used to when he was a baby, when he was no larger than one of Russia's vodka bottles.

How pointless. Germany hadn't been small in over a hundred years.

"West," he finally whispered in his brother's ear, rubbing the side of his head against his brother's affectionately. "West...I'm here now."

Germany didn't reply with words. He just cried harder.

The wailing sent more of Prussia's own tears down his cheeks. He had never gotten used to hearing his brother cry. No, he had gotten used to hearing his brother _not_ cry. Germany had stopped crying altogether one day when he was still young, around the time his body looked like that of a pre-teen's. It saved Prussia in an odd way, because his heart broke every time he heard his little brother cry. Even as a baby, when he cried because he couldn't speak, Prussia felt horrible, like he had done something terribly wrong or that he hadn't done _enough_. That hadn't changed throughout Germany's childhood. Every time he had cried for whatever reason, Prussia had felt like crying, too.

Now, after over 150 years of not hearing Germany cry, to hear him cry again brought back all of Prussia's old memories of his brother's childhood, when those big, blue eyes of his would well up with tears and fall down his plump cheeks into little puddles. It had never mattered why. Prussia had always felt an uncontrollable urge to make his brother stop crying, to pick him up and comfort him and make him smile again.

Could he do that this time?

It was dark outside, pitch black, but the party was still going on. Prussia could hear families and friends being reunited and celebrating in the streets of Berlin. They all sounded so happy, and he wondered if he was feeling any happiness at all. Yes, he was finally away from Russia, but hearing his brother cry so uncontrollably and not being able to do a thing about it...that was worse than being under Russia's control. Out of everyone who crossed the broken Wall that night, he should have been the happiest. Not so much.

"West," he repeated in a whisper, "West, it's bedtime."

"NO!" Germany screamed through tears, much like a child. "NO, NO!"

A shiver went down Prussia's spine as he heard his brother cry out. More tears fell down his own cheeks. He didn't know what else to say. He just wanted to go to bed and wake up and start over. He wanted to start his life again in the morning. The longer he stayed awake, the longer he had to wait for that to happen. I would help Germany, too, he figured, since he always felt better about anything and everything after a good night's sleep. Now if only he could find the strength to break away and move on, if only Germany could do that...if only they both could do that.

Prussia shook his head softly. "You have to go to bed, West," he whispered. "It's bedtime."

"NO, NO!" Germany continued to shout. "No, I won't!"

"Why?" Prussia gasped through his own tears. _God, just stop doing this to me, West! You don't realize how much this is killing me!_

Germany struggled to speak through his sobs. "If...If I let you go...If I let go of you...you'll...no, no...you'll just leave again!" He clutched his brother tighter, if that was even possible. "No...you'll disappear again..."

"Oh, West..." Prussia shut his eyes tightly and willed away the waterfalls threatening to spill from them. He rubbed his brother's back and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "No, West, I won't leave again. Not without you anyway. I promise...I swear! I swear on my awesomeness!" He kissed his brother's head again and hunched over in an attempt to protect him from the outside world, from the reality of it all. He had left his little brother behind of his own free will. What a horrible big brother he was.

It took several hours before Germany finally calmed down. Prussia barely noticed so until the entire house went quiet. He opened his eyes and realized that his brother's grip on him had loosened. Gently, he moved so that Germany could lie comfortably in his arms. Germany tried to fight it, though he was losing the battle against sleep. He tried to blink his pink, puffy eyes open, but his lids were heavy with exhaustion. He had forgotten how much energy it took to cry.

Prussia eventually got him into his bed. He kept still as his brother took his shoes off and brought the covers over him. The comfort of the blankets surrounded him, warmed him, and made him feel like it was okay to sleep. He wasn't giving up so easily though. He reached out and grabbed his brother's hand before Prussia could step away from the bed. Satisfied, he finally let his eyes shut, and he quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Prussia watched him and looked down at his hand within his brother's grasp. Germany's hands were larger than his. He knew that. But in that moment, as Prussia watched his brother fall asleep, all the albino could see was a tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers.

"He finally fell asleep?"

Prussia looked up at Italy in the doorway, slightly stunned. The Italian looked tired and worn out, bags under his eyes, hair messed up, and tanned skin looking blotchy and uneven. He had been crying himself. Not surprising for Italy. What was surprising was that he had managed to stay awake. The time was reaching early morning.

Prussia nodded. "He just did. You should sleep, too, Italy."

Italy shook his head. "I need to show you something."

"...Can it wait?"

"No, I need to show you now."

Prussia looked down at his brother's hand wrapped around his. Gently and slowly, he moved each one of the fingers until he could break free. Germany's hand twitched but he didn't wake up, much to Prussia's relief.

Once he was free, Prussia met up with Italy in the doorway, who led him out of the room and down to the basement. He didn't question what Italy wanted him to see, instead choosing to see it for himself. As soon as they reached the bottom, Italy turned the light on, and Prussia's breath was stolen.

All over the basement, covering every single corner and reaching the ceiling, were paintings. They weren't paintings of anything in particular. A lot of them were just colors splashed together on a canvas, the colors themselves contrasting and twisting violently against each other. Others were collages brought together with paint. Prussia saw that magazine and newspaper articles and photos had been glued together, a history book of the past forty-two years laid out before his very eyes. There were many layers of these paintings, gathered together, one on top of the other, crowding the floor and making it hard to maneuver across the room. Prussia didn't move though. He couldn't. He was frozen in place, his eyes wide, drinking everything in. He knew what these paintings were. His brother hadn't developed a new hobby over the last forty-two years.

"He never spoke a word," Italy murmured, "but he was still saying something."

It was overwhelming. Prussia actually started to cry again, simply because it was all too much. He was so sad, feeling so guilty...but he was also incredibly proud. His shoulders shook as he brought his hands to his face and attempted to wipe away the tears. New ones just replaced them. "My brother," he gasped, "is so awesome."

Italy nodded quietly. "This is better art than anything I ever created. This...every single piece here came straight from his heart. I would sometimes watch him paint or cut or glue or whatever. He did it with so much _passion_. He had to. This was his only means of communication."

"This was how he screamed," Prussia added, wiping the last of his tears away.

Italy nodded again. "He would have gone insane if he hadn't done something."

Prussia turned. "Thank you for showing me this, Italy. I needed to see this."

Italy managed a smile. "You're welcome."

Without anymore words, Italy turned the basement light off, and Prussia followed him up the stairs back to main level of the house. In the living room were Austria and Hungary, both with knowing looks on their faces. Prussia met their gazes for a moment and then quickly walked down the hallway back to his brother's room.

Germany was still sleeping. Prussia forced himself not to start crying again, and he shut the door behind him. He took his boots off and got into the bed, pulling the sheets up to his neck. He snuggled into the mattress and looked at his brother's peaceful, sleeping face. It looked like nothing was wrong, like he hadn't just spent the last few hours crying his eyes out and screaming for his brother. He looked content. Happy.

Like a child.

Prussia closed his eyes and prayed they would still be together when he woke up.

* * *

They were.

* * *

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. Time passed slowly though, as it was difficult for the brothers to adjust to their new lives together as one nation. Technically, they didn't even become a single nation until October 3rd of the next year, 1990. During the time before that day, there was much confusion and paranoia over whether or not Prussia could even stay in West Berlin.

"You're the Eastern half of the country," Austria said on a cold February day over a cup of afternoon coffee. "Berlin is located in East Germany, yes, but you also have to represent East Berlin. Is it okay that you are here and not there?" He looked at his old rival sadly and hated that the albino refused to make eye contact with him. He genuinely cared for his safety.

Prussia shrugged as he sipped his black coffee. "Who knows?" he sighed. "The only thing I do know is that I'm a lot safer here than I am over there. For all I know, that bastard could be waiting for me to return to East Berlin. He could be right there, standing at the Wall wreckage, right now!"

"That's ridiculous," Austria retorted. "Russia has better things to do than wait for you like that. Besides, he has his own set of problems now. Ever since he lost you, things have gone downhill for him. I have a feeling that the Soviet Union won't be around for much longer."

Prussia took another sip of coffee. "We can only hope."

"...You're different now."

Prussia lowered the cup from his lips. "What?"

Austria narrowed his eyes. "You heard me. You're different. Something happened to you while you were under Russia's control."

"Pfft, no shit, Specs. It was like Hell over there, a frozen Hell. You don't want to know what that bastard did to me. It would scar you for life. I'm scarred...quite literally." He set the cup down on the table before him and cleared his throat. "Trust me, you don't want to know, and you don't want to see."

Austria shook his head, setting his own cup on its saucer in his lap. "That's not what I'm talking about," he replied. "We all know that Russia did terrible things to you. If we didn't think that, we wouldn't have been so worried about you."

"How flattering."

"Don't roll your eyes at me! We were worried to death about you!"

Prussia gazed at Austria, looking somewhat skeptical of his words. He sighed and shook his head slightly. "I'd really rather not talk about anything else that happened there," he muttered, "at least not with you."

"I wouldn't expect you to go into great detail about it, not with me." He took another sip of coffee. "However, I do think that you need to have a good, long conversation with Germany. Out of everyone, he deserves to know what happened to you the most. He deserves to know what you're thinking and what you're hiding."

"I'm not hiding anything!"

"You can't hide the fact that you're hiding something!"

Prussia let out an exasperated groan and stood. "Just shut it, Specs," he growled. "Why the hell did I agree to have afternoon coffee with you anyway?"

"You're the one who sat down without asking!"

"Minor detail."

Austria shut his eyes tightly, trying to calm himself. There was no use in getting angry with Prussia. All the times he had done so in the past had ended in disaster, and he really didn't want to start another war with his old rival. After a moment, he opened his eyes and glared at the albino.

"You're right about one thing," he admitted. "You don't have to share anything with me. I'm not the one with whom you're running a country. However, you should remember that you _are_ running a country with someone. If you are not open with Germany, the country will fall to ruin quickly. I've watched it almost happen several times to Italy and his brother."

Prussia looked away awkwardly. "Yeah..."

"And you have a lot to explain from before the separation, too, from _before_ your dissolution."

Prussia's eyes widened. He whipped his head back toward the aristocrat and stared at him. "That's _my_ business, you prick."

"He lived in _my house!_"

"Yeah, back in the Dark Ages! He's not the Holy Roman Empire anymore! He's Germany now, MY BROTHER! I'LL TELL HIM WHATEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE!"

With that, Prussia stormed out of the room and slammed the door to his bedroom. Austria cringed at the noise and settled the cup of coffee in his lap. Letting out a sigh, he looked at the mess Prussia had made. His cup was still half-full, and crumbs from the pastries Austria had prepared were all over his half of the table. Typical Prussia, Austria mused.

He frowned and took another sip of his own coffee. "Maybe it wasn't my place to bring that up," he whispered to himself, looking guiltily away from the table, up at the calender hanging on the wall. "And...I really shouldn't have said 'dissolution,' not today anyway."

February 25th.

* * *

It wasn't just Austria who noticed a change in Prussia, especially during the summer of 1990. Prussia never wanted to go out, not even on nice days when his brother was planning on staying in West Berlin.

"You could go shopping again," he suggested.

Prussia shook his head, staring out the window of his bedroom. "No thanks, West," he murmured. "Have fun."

Germany didn't fight his brother, but he did wonder about him.

_Brother...what happened to you over there?_

* * *

The third of October came and went, and the people of Germany celebrated the country's unification. Germany and Prussia went out for beer that night. The awkwardness between them had eased, and relations were a bit less tense. Prussia was blissfully happy that night, drinking several mugs full of beer and mingling with the crowd at the bar. Germany was happy, too, smiling as he drank his own beer. He watched his brother get up and dance on top of the bar as techno music played in the background, his "fans" cheering him on. Germany couldn't help but laugh a bit. This was the brother he remembered, not that introverted daydreamer he had seen during the summer.

That's not to say he had forgotten about what he had seen. He couldn't forget. It was so unlike Prussia to sit in his room and just stare out the window, a longing look on his face. He had actually seemed rather upset, as if he were missing something. Germany had never asked about it though, thinking it would be better to leave his brother to his thoughts.

It was late at night by the time the brothers made it home. They bid each other good night, and Germany immediately cleaned himself up and went to bed. That was so like him.

Prussia, on the other hand, didn't go to his room right away. He headed into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror, a near horrified look on his face. He looked different. Was he drunk? No, not terribly drunk. He had been drunker throughout his life. He silently prayed that the difference in his reflection was just because of the alcohol in his system. Cringing at himself, he shook his head and went to his bedroom.

When he woke up the next morning, he had a slight hangover. He went back to the bathroom and looked at his reflection again. It was still different.

"...Just a hangover," he gasped. "Nothing to worry about. Just...yeah, I just gotta wait until I'm completely sober and shit." He nodded nervously and left the bathroom, walking down the hall towards the kitchen. It was late in the morning, close to noon actually. He ate the somewhat cold sausages his brother had left him for breakfast and swallowed a few painkillers for his headache.

A few hours later, he was completely cleaned up. No more hangover. He bit his lip and wobbled his way to the bathroom, legs weak. Nervously, he looked in the mirror. Pale skin. Silver, almost white, hair. Red eyes. Still a descendant of Germania. Still Germany's older brother.

But he was different.

He lost it. He fell to the tiled floor and sobbed, thankful that his brother wasn't home to see him. He cried for what felt like hours.

"It's really gone," he gasped, holding himself as he began to shake. "My identity. It really is." He hunched over and tried to calm himself. No luck. He couldn't hide the truth.

"...Who the hell am I?"

* * *

Soon it was 1991. February 25th passed quietly. No one had to say anything. Forty-four years and counting.

Then the summer came. Once again, Prussia refused to go out. He stayed in on most days, sitting on his bed and staring out the window. Occasionally, he would go out for beer, but that was really it. He left shopping up to his brother, content with whatever he bought.

This time, however, Germany tried to get his brother to go out. He didn't even particularly like going out, especially on a hot day, but he decided to push it aside for the sake of his brother.

"There's a free concert near the Brandenburg Gate, in celebration of its restoration," he said one evening in June. He stood in the doorway of his brother's room and hoped he would agree to the event.

But Prussia just shook his head. "Not really interested. You can go if you want, West."

"...It would be no fun going alone."

"...Sorry."

On a hot day in July, he tried something else. "Some artists are gathering at what remains of the Wall to present their new work. Wanna see? A lot of it has to do with your half."

Prussia's response was the same. "I don't feel like it," he added. "Too soon."

"...We'll both have to face it eventually."

"Not now."

In early August, Germany tried something that he felt Prussia had to do, that they both had to do, at at least one point during the summer. He knocked on his brother's bedroom door and didn't wait for a response. "Brother," he began, "Italy invited us over to go to the beach."

Prussia froze. "No," he said quickly. "No, I'm not going."

Germany narrowed his eyes. "Italy will be sad if you don't go."

"I don't care!" the albino snapped, making Germany jump. "Shut up, West, I'm NOT going to the beach!" He turned towards his brother and glared at him. "At least not with you and Italy."

"So you'd go with someone else?"

"...None of your business."

Germany shook his head slightly in disbelief. "Okay, now I _know_ you're keeping something from me. Something obviously happened to you while you were under Russia's rule."

"That's none of your business either!" Prussia shoved himself off his bed and attempted to slam the door in his brother's face. Germany held it open and tried to push it back. "Dammit, West, stop it!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong with you!"

"YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!"

"Don't try that one on me, Brother," the German snarled, resisting his brother's pushing against the door. "We're one country now. If you're not open with me, we might as well be separate again."

"THAT WOULD BE AWESOME!"

With that, Prussia gave the door a hard slam and locked it quickly, before Germany could open it. The younger brother twisted the knob a few times and let out a frustrated grunt. "You're acting like a damn child!" he shouted.

"So did you!" the older brother shouted back. "Remember? You were the one screaming and crying like a helpless baby that night I came home!"

Germany fought the blush appearing on his cheeks. "That's _different_, Brother."

"Not in my book!"

"I give up! I'm going to Italy's place myself. Have fun being all alone!" He kicked the door stormed off to his own room to pack. He threw a luggage bag on his bed and started stuffing some of his clothes into it when he suddenly stopped and let his brother's words sink in. His whole body relaxed as he let his head drop. "Do you really wish we weren't together, Brother?"

* * *

Later that month, the fight had not been forgotten. The tense, awkward relationship between the brothers returned. Their eyes hardly met. They could barely stay in the same room without feeling strange. For the most part, Prussia took his meals into his bedroom and only came out when he needed to.

One day, he walked into the living room and saw his brother sitting on the couch, staring at the television. The news was on. Prussia stopped and stared as well.

"What the...?"

"Ukraine just declared herself independent from the Soviet Union," Germany explained, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Belarus is saying, even though she's saying it a bit reluctantly, that she's going to do so tomorrow. The Baltics have all been recognized as independent, too."

"...Oh, my God."

Germany turned and looked at his brother, who wore an expression of shock and disbelief. He smiled slightly. "They're following you," he semi-joked. "It looks like you started something."

Prussia blinked and looked down at his brother, taking in his smile. It caused him to smile a bit, too, but for different reasons. "Yeah," he exhaled softly, "they were inspired by my awesomeness."

Germany's smile faded a bit. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard, Brother," he said. "I wasn't thinking about how hard it must be for you to adjust to this new life."

"What?"

"Well, the 20th century hasn't exactly been kind to you. It was wrong of me to expect you to be okay with our unification right away."

Prussia frowned slightly. "It's okay," he murmured. "I'm sorry, too. I've been acting un-awesome." He shuffled in his spot. "I just...feel like I've lost part of my identity."

Germany's smile returned. "We'll still call you 'Prussia' though, always."

Prussia smiled back. "Thanks, West. And I'll always call you 'West'."

_Wait for me, Ukraine._

* * *

October 3, 1991, was significantly happier than October 3, 1990. There were celebrations for the one-year anniversary of the unification of Germany. This time, Prussia had no meltdown.

However, as the year came to a close, the world seemed to be on the verge of some sort of drastic change. Prussia felt it. It was the same feeling he had experienced the night before his dissolution, in that small, nearly destroyed, empty bar. An odd feeling, not necessarily bad or alarming. Just...odd. Germany felt it, too, felt that something was going to happen.

It had actually been this way since September, when the two had heard that the Congress of People's Deputies had voted for the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Now all they had to do was wait.

Not surprisingly, Christmas Eve was a bit awkward. The brothers celebrated the same way they had the year prior, eating and drinking together happily. However, there was a strange edge to everything. Neither one mentioned it, but both knew it.

That night, Prussia dreamed.

_Prussia...Prussia..._

Who was that calling his name?

_Prussia...my dear Prussia..._

He listened closely and soon recognized the voice.

"Fritz...?"

_Prussia...listen to me..._

"Old Man...!"

_Prussia, tomorrow...there will be a miracle._

Prussia's eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed, gasping. He looked at the clock. Morning. Christmas Day.

"Today?" he asked himself. "Damn it, Old Man, why didn't you specify WHICH 'tomorrow?' Jerk, being all vague and philosophy-like and shit." He let out an irritated groan and got out of bed. He could hear Germany making breakfast, and he was eager to open his presents. As much as he was annoyed at the lack of information though, he was still happy. Aside from the fact that his brother was making his breakfast, he also felt a familiar feeling tugging at his heart.

"It's been so long since I heard your voice..."

Nothing unusual happened throughout the day. The brothers opened their presents and called their friends to wish them a Merry Christmas. Wonderful meals and delicious desserts were eaten. Much beer was drunk. Cheesy Christmas specials were watched.

In the middle of one of those specials, however, the screen turned fuzzy. Germany flipped the channels and turned the television off, hoping it would fix it. When he turned the device back on though, he realized that the news had interrupted every channel.

"Mikhail Gorbachev has resigned as the President of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. This just in...The United States of America has recognized the independence of the remaining Soviet republics..."

Prussia and Germany watched in awe as the cameras captured the moment of resignation. The people celebrated in the streets of Moscow, cheering for their newly-found independence. Amongst it all, the brothers heard the report of the Russian government taking over the next day.

"It's gone," Prussia whispered, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Gone..."

Germany nodded quickly. "Yeah, it's all over..."

Suddenly, Prussia stood. "West," he said firmly, "I need to borrow your car."

"WHAT!" Germany stood and stared at his brother, ignoring the continuing television report. "No way, why the hell do you need my car?"

Prussia hesitated before speaking. "...I need to go somewhere."

Something snapped in Germany. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and turned him around so that was staring into his eyes. Angry blue met surprised red. "I've had enough of this," he growled. "This is bullshit, Brother. You are hiding something from me. You've _been_ hiding something from me ever since you came home. I'm sick of it. I'm not letting you go anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"

Prussia shook his head. "You don't need to know."

"Bullshit! If it wasn't so important, you wouldn't be keeping it from me!"

"Maybe I'm keeping it from you because it's none of your damn business!"

Germany narrowed his eyes. "I'm getting really tired of hearing that excuse, Brother. Either come up with a better one or tell me."

Prussia bit his lip nervously. He exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes tightly, weighing all the options in his head. Were there anymore excuses? No, none he could think of. He had kept it bottled up inside for so long, everything that had happened to him. Russia's torture, the oppression of his people, his feelings after being dissolved, his identity crisis through the unification of Germany.

...Falling in love with Ukraine.

He let out another shaky breath and looked up at his brother. He was about to speak when he thought of something. Germany had kept all of his emotions bottled up for forty-two years, made even worse by the fact that he had become a mute. Prussia had at least spoken, even though he hadn't expressed any of his emotions. He thought of the paintings his brother had done. Shortly after coming home, Prussia had encouraged his brother to sell his art and put some of it in a museum. Now most of the paintings and collages were gone, only a few, Germany's favorites, left. Which one of them had said more?

No, that didn't matter anymore. That was all in the past. Now the Soviet Union was in the past. Prussia hated to admit it, but even he was in the past. He wasn't Prussia anymore; he was the eastern half of a unified Germany. He had a new future. He and his brother had a new future _together_. If they wanted to stay together, there could be no more hiding, Prussia realized. It finally hit him. Austria had been right.

Prussia nodded and exhaled again, though it was much more stable this time. "Alright," he breathed quietly, "you win, West. I'll tell you everything."

"Brother..."

"On one condition."

Germany waited.

"...You wait until I come back from where I want to go."

Prussia hated the expression on his brother's face. He looked like he was about to cry. _Don't cry, West, please. I won't be able to handle it. _Prussia swallowed hard, waiting for his brother's answer.

Finally, Germany exhaled and nodded. "Alright, I can agree to that. The keys are on the table next to the door."

Out of nowhere, Prussia hugged his brother. "Thank you, West." He let go and snatched the keys from the table. He opened the door and looked back. "I promise that I'll be back soon."

"Please be careful."

Prussia smiled. "I will. Wait for me." He ran outside and unlocked his brother's car. As he got in the driver's seat, he realized that Germany was standing on the porch, watching him.

"Remember," he called out, "you promised!"

Prussia's smile grew. He nodded and waved to his brother, starting the car. The engine roared with life, and he pulled out of the driveway. He waved one last time as he straightened the car out and moved forward, still smiling. He had memories of his little brother saying things like that all those years ago, anytime he had to go somewhere and leave him behind. Little Germany would cry, which would, of course, break Prussia's heart, and Prussia would have to promise that he would come back to him as soon as possible.

"Looks like nothing's really changed between us..."

* * *

Prussia reached the beach in a few hours. It was still dark outside, the moon reflecting off the water on that cold night. The albino smiled at the familiar scene and headed towards the little house near the water. It looked exactly the way he had remembered it, which made him happy. Slowly, he reached out and touched it, loving the feeling of the wood against his fingertips. It was a familiar, welcome sensation.

Prussia then touched the doorknob and realized that it wasn't locked. He twisted it and opened the door to reveal the interior, which was exactly the way he and Ukraine had left it. In the summer of 1989, when they had slept in, they had left the house in such a hurry that they hadn't cleaned it up or locked it. Prussia's mind spun. Nobody else had been there. It was creepy. Anyone else who came upon it would think that it was abandoned or that a horrible crime had been committed there.

Suddenly, Prussia got the feeling that he wasn't alone. He walked into the house and looked down the hallway. There, he saw that a light was on in one of the rooms. It wasn't just any room though; it was the bedroom, the room he and Ukraine had shared. His heart jumped in his chest. Without thinking he opened the door with a huge smile on his face, but that smile disappear as soon as he saw who was there.

"...So this is where you two went every summer."

Prussia stared at Russia and began to shake. A jolt of fear made his blood run cold as it pumped hard throughout his body. His heart seemed to jump up to his throat. He felt frozen, as if he was suddenly back in that frostbitten mansion isolated in that dead, frozen wasteland. The memories of torture and pain and paranoia flooded his mind. The arm Russia had once broken began to twitch, as if reminding Prussia of what he had done to him. He felt sick as he remembered being forced to listen to Ukraine scream as Russia beat her, punishment for leaving the mansion without permission. He remembered the countless bottles of vodka he had brought to Russia and how so many of them had been broken over his head, splashing the alcohol over his body as Russia just laughed. All the memories of the forty-two years of his imprisonment came rushing back to him, making him to scared and too traumatized to do anything.

Suddenly, Prussia snapped. "GET OUT!" he screamed, rushing forward and smacking Russia across the face. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. Not too long ago, he wouldn't have dared do anything like that out of pure fear. He didn't know what was driving him. Revenge? Love? Fear? Did it matter? Not really. Prussia just kept screaming and pushing Russia out of the room. "GET OUT, GET OUT!"

Eventually, he managed to push Prussia out of the house in general. "STAY OUT OF HERE! YOU'RE NOT WELCOMED HERE!"

Russia nodded. "Da, I know."

"Bastard," Prussia growled out, "why did you come here then?"

Out of nowhere, Russia began to cry. Thick tears spilled out of his eyes and down his cheeks, wetting his scarf. He did nothing to stop them; he just kept staring at Prussia. His voice was soft and guilty when he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry..."

Prussia's eyes widened. He hadn't seen that coming. Not knowing what else to do, he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Get out of here," he spat. "Go away. I never want to see your face ever again."

He expected Russia to protest, but the large man just nodded and turned. He immediately began walking away from the house and off the beach, back towards the road. Prussia watched him in confused awe, not knowing how to react. Once Russia was out of sight, he closed the door. In the silence of the house, he tried to process what had just happened. His brain was frozen though, unable to think about anything. He was scared.

After a long moment, Prussia finally moved away from the door and ran back to the bedroom. Nothing about it had changed from that last morning he and Ukraine had spent there. He quietly looked over everything; it seemed like Russia hadn't touched anything, much to Prussia's relief. Gently, he touched the bed sheets. They were just as soft as he remembered.

Before he knew it, Prussia had taken off his shoes and gotten into the bed, pulling the sheets up to his neck. He inhaled deeply. The pillows and sheets still smelled like Ukraine. He smiled and a few tears escaped his eyes. He rubbed them away and closed his eyes lightly, letting the comfort of the smell and the warm sheets lull him to sleep.

* * *

He dreamed again.

Prussia stood in a white nothingness, though it seemed rather cloudy. Was this what it was like to be in the clouds? He looked around the area for any sign of life, and his eyes locked on something beginning to form in front of him. His eyes widened as soon as he realized who it was. In no time, his long deceased king, Frederick the Great, was standing before him.

Prussia didn't know how to react. He wasn't even sure if what he was seeing was real. He knew he was dreaming though, and he prayed that he didn't wake up. Even if he didn't say anything, he wanted to stare at the man he loved for as long as he could.

Prussia didn't need to speak. Frederick took care of that for him. "My dear nation," the dead man greeted warmly, wearing a welcoming smile, "it has been far too long."

The nation finally found his voice. "Over two hundred years..." He stopped and gasped. "Wait...what the hell are you doing here? Why can I see you? And...why are you so young?"

Frederick looked down at himself and shrugged as he looked back up at his nation. "Well, I'm not really sure of why I look this way," he replied, sounding a bit confused. "I've been looking this way ever since I died. This was me at twenty-eight, when I took the throne. Hmm...maybe, when we die, we take the form of how we looked when we were at our prime." He shrugged again, still smiling. "But that's just my guess."

"Pfft, you haven't changed at all," Prussia snickered. "Still being all artsy and philosopher-like and crap. I never did understand all that frilly stuff you liked." He tried to smile but couldn't as he keep gazing at his former king. Before he knew it, his eyes were starting to water.

Frederick noticed this and held his arms out. "Come here."

Prussia didn't need to be told twice. He ran to his love and cried into his chest as Frederick wrapped his arms around him. They stood like that for quite a while. Frederick didn't say a word, happy just to hold his dear nation again. He didn't even mind how Prussia's tears were staining his jacket. His mind wandered to all those times Prussia would accidentally spit tea all over him. Good times.

Eventually, Prussia stopped crying long enough to compose himself and speak again. "I love you..."

Frederick nodded. "I love you, too." He stopped and held his nation closer. "But, right now, someone else needs your love more than I do."

Prussia gasped and looked up at his former king. "What? No...you're talking about...Ukraine?"

Frederick nodded again. "She's quite a nice girl, and she's desperately in love with you. That was why I came into your dreams last night. I knew that something was going to happen, so I had to be sure that you knew to come to this place."

"How do you know about all this? Have you...?"

"Dear Prussia, I've been watching over you this whole time. What kind of king would I be if I didn't keep an eye on my kingdom? What kind of _lover_ would I be if I didn't care for you?" The dead man kissed Prussia's forehead and brought his head back down towards his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

Prussia snorted. "You couldn't have reassured me of this when I was, oh, I don't know, being tortured and shit under some crazy bastard's evil rule?"

Frederick sighed. "I didn't want to get in the way of your developing relationship with Ukraine."

The albino rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll give you that one." He tried to snuggle deeper into his former king's embrace when Frederick pushed him back and straightened him up. Prussia's eyes widened slightly in fear when he saw the disappointed look on the man's face.

"There is something I wanted to interfere with though," he stated, "but I didn't, and I regret it. Prussia, you were a fool for wanting to die."

Prussia gasped. "What?"

"Don't play dumb," Frederick ordered the way he had ordered his troops and servants during his reign. Prussia felt his stomach drop. Frederick meant _business_. "Remember? You told Ukraine that you wanted to die when you first came under Russia's rule. Hell, part of the reason why you left your brother after your dissolution was because you wanted to die! Don't deny it!"

Prussia couldn't reply. The man had hit the nail on the head.

Frederick's frown deepened. "And I know why you wanted to die, too. That was foolish, dear Prussia. It was rather un-awesome of you."

The nation found his voice, though it was rather weak and quiet. "I just," he squeaked out, "I just wanted to see you again..."

"You don't realize how selfish you were being!"

"...What?"

"You heard me! You were being even more of a spoiled, selfish brat than you usually are!"

"But I wanted to see _you!_"

"Yes, _you_ wanted to see me. You didn't think for a second about what the other people in your life wanted."

Prussia gasped and immediately shut his mouth. He had a feeling that, the more he spoke, the deeper in trouble he would be. He stared at Frederick and tried to fight back the tears threatening to fall from his wide eyes.

Frederick noticed this and sighed. His expression softened and he brought his nation back into his arms. "Come here, I'm sorry," he murmured comfortingly. "I know, you just wanted to be with me. My dear nation, part of me is flattered. I feel so loved." He felt Prussia cling to him and started to rub his back. "But, Prussia, you _have_ to start thinking about the other people in your life. You are needed much more than you think you are, even though the past few decades have been very harsh and unfair to you. Try to think about all the people who know you and love you. They all need you. Don't deny it."

Prussia started to think about that, and he started to realize just how many people he knew and how many people he loved. Germany, of course. He would always love Germany. Germany was and always would be his darling little brother. Germany was an adult now, completely capable of taking care of himself. He didn't need Prussia to help him get dressed in the morning or feed him at meal times or teach him how to read or tuck him in at night. But that didn't mean he wasn't needed at all. No matter how mature and independent Germany was, he was _still_ the _little_ brother. That little brother had needed his big brother to come home and be with him, be in his life. Prussia didn't want to think about what could have happened to Germany if he had never come home. Germany needed him.

Then there were his friends. His wonderful Bad Friends. Even though they had fought a lot and sometimes switched sides between the War of the Austrian Succession and the present, they were still all friends. France and Spain needed him to complete the trio. Having only two Bad Friends would never work. Prussia was almost like a voice of reason between the sex-obsessed France and the painfully oblivious Spain. Who would make sure France didn't hit on everyone he saw whenever they went out? Who would at least attempt to make Spain realize that Romano was a manipulative bastard who was just using him? No, those two would be lost with Prussia. They needed him.

He realized that even Austria and Hungary needed him. Austria claimed that Prussia was annoying and uncultured, and that was a bit true, but their rivalry had become more of a friendship over the years. Hungary had even said that things weren't the same without him. Prussia made things interesting. He kept those two on their toes and alert and brought some much-needed fun into their lives. They claimed to hate him, but they needed him.

Prussia could feel himself start to cry again as he thought about all the people in his life. Now he he had Ukraine, who was in love with him. She needed him or else she would die of a broken heart. He quickly realized that he needed her, too. He needed someone to fill the hole in his heart that formed after he had lost Frederick.

Frederick smiled again. "You understand," he murmured sweetly.

Prussia nodded. "I'm so sorry..."

"Don't cry, my dear nation. There is still time to fix all of this."

"But," Prussia whispered as he snuggled against his former king, "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to stop loving you."

"I should hope not!" Frederick replied. "I'd feel rather betrayed!"

Prussia looked up at him, slightly stunned. "You don't feel betrayed by the fact that I'm...in love with someone else?"

Frederick shook his head. "I'm _dead,_ Prussia. I'm dead and I'm never coming back. I'd be a horrible lover if I didn't let you move on with your life. I actually feel more betrayed by the fact that you never stopped grieving. There is a time for grieving, dear nation, but, eventually, we must pick ourselves up and move on. If we grieve forever, we are stuck on the past forever. I don't want that for you, since you've been granted a second chance at life. You have so many new opportunities to make something of yourself..."

Prussia closed his eyes lightly and let the words sink in. "You're right," he realized. He nodded, leaning his head back down. "You're absolutely right..."

Frederick smiled. "You're going to wake up soon," he whispered. "Don't worry, dear Prussia, I will _always_ watch over you, and I will _always_ love you. Do you want to know when I fell in love with you?"

"...When?"

"Remember that time you came to comfort me outside after my father had beaten me? Remember how you reassured me that I didn't have to be like him? Then you took me to the nurses? Then. That was the moment I fell in love with you."

"...But you were just a child."

"It might have started out as a childish love, but it was love nonetheless. It just grew after that. It grew when you came to see me after Katte was executed, it grew after I realized that you were jealous of Voltaire, and it grew on that night when we first made love." The former king paused for a moment and kissed Prussia's head. "There really was no reason to be jealous of Voltaire. I love _you_, Prussia, not him, and I will always be Prussian."

Prussia shook his head. "I just wanted you all to myself."

Frederick let out a small chuckle. "Yes, I know. I find that cute."

Prussia fought the blush that threatened to form on his cheeks. He looked up at his love and took a step back, getting one last look at his face. He wanted to carve this moment into his memory. He had a feeling Frederick wouldn't be visiting him like this very often. Like he had said, he had to move on with his life.

He suddenly spoke. "I fell in love with you after I heard that Katte had been execute," he confessed. "I realized that I wanted you to be happy and safe and feel loved. I just...refused to believe it and realize it until that night..."

Frederick nodded. "I had a feeling." He paused. "You're going to wake up at any moment." He moved closer to his nation so that their faces were barely apart. "One last time..."

Prussia nodded back. "One last time..."

Kiss.

* * *

Prussia awoke.

The first thing he heard was running water coming from the kitchen. He sprang out of the bed and ran down the hallway, guide by the light of the bright, cheerful day. He stopped short when he came upon the kitchen, staring.

Ukraine turned around and smiled at him. "Good morning."

The albino ran to her without a word and wrapped his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly, so happy to finally be near him again. They pulled away briefly and started to kiss. The kisses started out innocent enough, but they quickly became more passionate. Prussia fumbled with Ukraine's shirt and tried to pull it up over her head. She stopped him quickly, stopping the kisses. She looked up at him and smiled happily.

"I missed you so much."

Prussia nodded. "I missed you more."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

The both laughed quietly and went back to their kisses. Ukraine started to unbutton her shirt and soon revealed herself to Prussia. Prussia lifted his own shirt over his head and threw it somewhere across the room. He grabbed at her and reveled in the feeling of her soft skin and round breasts. Ukraine ran her hands down his chest and almost clawed at his abs.

They ended up back in the bedroom rather quickly.

* * *

"It's been a really long two years since I let you go."

Ukraine snuggled into Prussia's embrace as they lay there in bed, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She nodded against his chest. "It's been hard," she confessed. "Everything started to go downhill after you left. The government started falling apart, and we all agreed that things would be better if we were separate nations." She smiled. "I'm just glad that you kept your promise. You did come back for me."

"Of course," Prussia replied. "Only un-awesome people don't keep their promises." He ran his fingers through her hair and frowned slightly. "I'm sorry I waited so long. I just..."

Ukraine shook her head. "No, there's nothing to apologize about. You had to wait until the politics of it all were right. I understand." She looked up at him curiously. "How have things been back at home with your brother?"

"...Awkward."

"I probably should have guessed."

"It's not that I'm not happy to be with him," the albino explained. "I really am. I just...I suffered from a major identity crisis. All of a sudden, I was part of a unified Germany. My nation didn't exist anymore, not a single little bit of it. And I had just come home from being something along the lines of a slave. I didn't know who I was or what I was supposed to be."

"...Do you know now?"

"Yeah, I think I do. It just took me a hell of a long time to figure it out."

Ukraine smiled again briefly, but a frown soon turned up on her face. "Prussia," she murmured, "I want to tell you something about my brother." She sat up in bed and looked down at the man. "Prussia, Russia isn't evil. Know that much at the very least."

Prussia narrowed his eyes. "Why am I supposed to believe that? He's crazy. He hurt me! He tortured me while I was under his rule!"

Ukraine shook her head. "That wasn't really him," she explained. "A long time ago, back when Russia was small, he was traumatized. He had a very hard childhood, part of which is probably my fault. As a result, his mind isn't stable. You know how, if there's a civil war in a single nation, a doppelgänger appears? Well, Russia's doppelgänger forms in his mind."

Prussia blinked out of shock. "No way, that's possible?"

The woman nodded. "That was why, during his revolutions, no doppelgänger appeared. The spirit of one appeared in his mind, and he tried to fight that. So, when the Soviet Union formed..."

"...it was actually the doppelgänger," Prussia finished, eyes widening in realization. He thought it through. It made sense, actually. It would explain why Russia had apologized to him earlier and why he didn't try to hurt him or fight back when he was kicking him out of the house. He suddenly felt a bit bad, though he would never admit it.

"It would make me really happy if you at least didn't hate him," Ukraine said quietly. "If you could at least try to get along with him in the future and not hate him for the past...that would mean the world to me."

"...I can try."

Ukraine could have cried with happiness. She knew Prussia well enough to know that that meant "yes." She snuggled back into the bed with him and rested her head against his chest. "Thank you." She giggled quietly. "We should keep coming back to this place. There's something about it..."

"Yeah, I like it a lot, too," Prussia agreed, wrapping his arms around her again. There was a long moment of silence until he spoke up again. "Ukraine?"

"Hmm?"

"There is something you should know."

"What?" She moved away from him slightly so she could have a better view of his face.

Prussia let out a sigh. "I love you," he stated. "However...there's someone else I love, too. He's been dead for over two hundred years, but I still love him."

"Your first love?"

Prussia nodded.

"Your former king?"

"You know about Fritz?"

Ukraine nodded back. "A little bit, from the history books at least." She smiled. "That's okay. I don't mind being the second person in your life as long as I'm the only woman."

Prussia grinned. "Trust me, you're the only woman in my life. There are only three other people in my life who will always be there: my brother, Fritz, and God. You're right up there with them when it comes to importance." He brought her back to him and hugged her tightly. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

That night, Prussia drove home. He said his goodbyes to Ukraine and wished her a safe trip back to her own home.

"You should come see me sometime in Berlin," he suggested as he hugged her one last time.

She nodded. "I will." She sealed that with a kiss. "And you should come visit me in Kiev sometime soon."

"I promise." More kisses.

By the time Prussia made it home, it was the middle of the night, and Germany was already asleep. He tiptoed through the house, making sure not to wake the dogs or Gilbird, and walked into his brother's room. Germany was sleeping peacefully. It looked like he was having sweet dreams. _Maybe about Oktoberfest,_ Prussia thought, amused.

He kneeled down next to his brother's bed and smiled. "I'm home, West," he whispered, "just like I promised." He paused for a moment to find the right words and then continued. "I'm going to tell you everything tomorrow morning, again, just like I promised, because I'm awesome like that. I just...I'm so sorry about the way I acted when I first came home. I was so happy to see you, West, I swear, but it was hard. I...I didn't want to tell you anything because I didn't want to burden you with my problems. I didn't know how you would react to knowing what Russia did to me, and I wasn't sure of how you would take discovering that I have a girlfriend now.

"But...more than anything, I just didn't know who I was, West, and I didn't know what I was to you. You mean everything to me, West. You have no idea. I fell in love with Fritz all those years ago. Then, when he died, I thought I had nothing to live for. Then you came along. All of a sudden, I had a reason to live, I had a _purpose_. I was suddenly a big brother to the cutest, sweetest, smartest, most precious little brother in the world. It felt so amazing to feel unconditional love again. For the first time in a long while, I felt _needed._ You saved me, West. I secretly wished you would never grow up so that I could take care of you forever.

"Then, all of a sudden, you did grow up and could take care of yourself. I thought that you didn't need me anymore. I felt so useless. I felt like I didn't have a place in your life anymore. So, when I was dissolved, I left...for many different reasons. I figured that you could live on your own without me, but I didn't think that you'd be so crushed. I didn't think that all those threats you were making were serious. I also...I admit it, I wanted to die. I just wanted to see Fritz again. You gotta understand, West, he was my first love. I _still_ love him. I don't think I'll ever completely get over his death. Now I know why Rule 3 is the worst one to break, but I don't regret anything. I'm glad I fell in love with him. We were so happy together.

"Now I've got someone else in my life. You know her. Ukraine. I'm in love with her, West. She's my girlfriend. I've invited her to Berlin anytime she wants. You guys have never really formally met, so I'll introduce you. You'll like her. She's quiet and loving and stuff. She balances me really well.

"I'm also going to try to create a new, good relationship with Russia. I gotta tell you about the truth behind the Soviet Union, West. That shit is gonna blow your mind.

"But...right now, I just want you to know that I love you. I'll repeat all this stuff in the morning, but I just feel the need to say it right now. I don't know why." He paused and smiled. "I'm going to tell you everything you need to know about everything. I'll even tell you about who you used to be. Italy is going to be thrilled." He quietly stood and leaned over, gently kissing his little brother's forehead. "Your big brother is back, West, and he's never leaving again, at least not without you."

He kissed his brother's forehead one last time and then went to his own bedroom to sleep. His bright future started in the morning.

_He said, "Sit back down where yoü belong._

_In the corner of my bar with your high heels on._

_Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time_

_And yoü said to me, '(There's somethin',)_

_Somethin' , somethin' about this place._

_Somethin' 'bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face._

_Somethin', somethin' about my cool Nebraska guy._

_Yeah, somethin' about, baby, Yoü and I'."_

END


	17. Track 17: The Edge of Glory

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: The Edge of Glory**

**I was born frozen-hearted.**

_Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled over a vast, frozen kingdom. Despite the harsh weather, he was a happy, energetic king. One day, the king fell in love with one of his subjects, a strong, beautiful viking who was feared throughout the land for both his physical strength and his magical powers. The viking did not return the king's feelings, but the king did not lose his confidence or smile._

_One day, the king decided to express his love to the viking, but the viking refused to accept it. He was especially cruel to the king that day. For the first time, the king lost his smile, but he refused to admit it. In a horrible moment of denial, the king nearly killed himself, hoping it would show the viking just how much he loved him._

_When the viking heard that the king was near death, his entire attitude changed. He cried out for the king, his tears representing his sorrow and remorse for the things he had done. The other vikings the king ruled came to his aid. Luckily, the king did not die. He made a full recovery, and his smile returned as soon as he laid eyes on his beloved viking. The viking apologized for his cruelty and finally returned the king's feelings._

_But all was not well for the viking. He had finally returned love, but he still hated himself. His heart had thawed for the king, but it was still frozen for himself..._

Norway stood silently outside his Oslo home as he listened to the snow fall. The late hour made sure that no one else was out with him, potentially disturbing the moment. He closed his eyes and heightened his listening sense, finding peace and comfort in the barely audible sound of falling snow. Ever since last Christmas, when Denmark had discovered his so-called "talent" (his self-assigned description) for the violin, the sound of falling snow had become one of his favorites. He took advantage of every moment when he could hear the beautiful sound, as it was a difficult sound to hear, even in his country, where snow was common.

He loved the sound of his violin, too. That sound was much easier to hear, to most people anyway. But, to Norway, it was just as difficult to capture as was the sound of falling snow. Sure, anybody could hear a violin being played, but to hear it at its purest, at its most beautiful, was a difficult task indeed. To Norway, the sounds he made with his violin were disgusting, more like strident squeaks than elegant music. It didn't matter if Denmark constantly told him that he was good and had talent, because nothing and no one, Norway believed, could ever match Alexander Rybak, Norway's violin teacher and good friend.

Thinking of him, Norway brought his violin to his chin and rested the bow against the strings. He took a shuddering breath and began to play. "I don't know you, but I need more time," he sang quietly as he rhythmically moved the bow and his fingers. "Promise me, you'll be mine. Birds are flying over Europe skies. Tell me please..."

Norway stopped short and shook his head. How dare he destroy such a wonderful song with his lack of talent. _At least I wasn't singing "Fairytale,"_ he thought, thankful that he hadn't butchered the song that had made him the country with the highest Eurovision point total in history. That would have been a crime.

He started playing again, this time making his own music. Recently, he had started writing songs and sharing them with Alexander whenever he could, whenever he wasn't on tour in a different country. Alexander had told him time and time again that he loved his songs, that the lyrics were beautiful and that the music was gorgeous. Such talk didn't change Norway's opinion about his ability to play. Alexander was a nice guy, so he said whatever made people happy, _duh_. Norway tried to push these negative thoughts out of his head as he continued to play. He liked the music and lyrics he wrote, but he still thought they weren't good enough for anybody but himself. What would be the point of showing his work off? The public would hate it, he reasoned.

A sound Norway did not like at all disturbed his moment. The phone was ringing. He let out an irritated groan and trudged back to his house, annoyed that the peace had been broken. He turned the lights on and snatched the phone off its stand.

"Hello? ...No, you didn't wake me, Alexander, it's okay," he sighed. He wanted to express his annoyance but saved it for another time. If it had been Denmark, however, he would have let his fellow Nordic have it. "What do you need me for at this time of night?"

Norway rolled his eyes at hid friend's response. Damn time zone change. But then his eyes widened. "Yes, I know about it," he murmured. "Why are you...?"

He gasped. "Oh, my God..."

* * *

"Waaaaaaah," Denmark whined, "I can't find Nooooooooor!"

He smacked his head against the front door of his boyfriend's home in Oslo, body limp, expression hopeless. He had been searching for Norway for hours. First, the Norwegian was _supposed_ to pick him up from the train station after his not-so-long journey. Norway's home wasn't too far away from the station, so Denmark didn't have a problem with walking, but then he had discovered that Norway wasn't even home! He then had travelled all over the city to Norway's favorite places, but there was no sign of the Nordic. He had stopped by the government buildings and asked Norway's boss if he knew where he was, but even the Prime Minister had no clue. Finally, he had dragged himself and his luggage all the way back to Norway's house, but, of course, he wasn't home.

He had done all of that in the snow with his usual stupid grin.

But now he was feeling anything but cheerful. He smacked his head against the door again. "Noooooooor!" he whined, bringing his fists up to the door and banging them against it. "Nor, stop being a troll! Those only belong in your folk tales or on the Internet!"

Suddenly, Denmark felt a tug at his coat. He looked down to see a little girl innocently staring up at him. She tilted her head, and Denmark mimicked the movement.

"Are you looking for Mr. Nor?" the girl asked in Norwegian. Thank goodness the language was so close to Danish. Denmark nodded and the girl smiled. "He's my neighbor. He got on the train and went to Bergen this morning. He was carrying a backpack and his violin."

There was a long moment of silence as Denmark stared down at the little girl. Her smile widened a bit and she soon ran off back her front yard to play in the snow. Denmark watched her, looked back at the house, and then looked down at his luggage. He then picked his luggage up, threw it over his shoulder, and ran back to the train station.

"TO BERGEEEEEEEEEEN!"

* * *

A few hours later, Denmark arrived in the second-largest city in Norway's country. By this time, his foolish grin had returned, and he felt a renewed sense of energy. As soon as the train came to a stop, he ran off it and out of the station, still carrying all of his luggage over his shoulder. Never mind the fact that he still had no idea where Norway was, even though he was in the right city.

Thus, he ran around the city for another hour, searching for his beloved boyfriend. "Nor's playing a game!" he laughed at one point. "I knew he had a fun side!" If people had heard him saying these things to himself, they would have assumed he was trying to convince himself of such things instead of stating a fact. The sad part was that he _was_.

Eventually, Denmark heard a familiar sound out in the distance, near the coast. His ears perked up at the sound of a violin being played, and his smile widened to the point that his cheeks hurt. "I FOUND YOU, NOOOOOOOOOR!" he squealed, running out towards the fjords. The music stopped long before he made it up to the top. Norway turned towards the trail leading up to it and watched in a half-confused, half-impressed daze as Denmark climbed the rock formation, _still _carrying his luggage over his shoulder.

Once Denmark and Norway were standing face-to-face, Denmark's stupidly happy while Norway's still in disbelief, the Dane finally threw his luggage on the ground and let out a cheer. "I win!"

"...What?"

"We were playing Hide and Seek, right? I found you!"

"...Are you serious?"

Denmark just laughed. "Of course I am! That was tricky of you, going to Bergen to try to escape me. I should have known when you didn't pick me up from the train station this morning. Now I need to hide, right? I'm gonna outdo you, I swear. Good luck finding me!" He picked his luggage up and started to run down the fjord when Norway stopped him.

"Idiot," he growled out, "I texted you last night and told you not to come this morning."

"Huh?" Denmark dropped his luggage again and fished his phone out of his pocket. He fumbled with some of the buttons and then pressed the power button. After a moment, it made a ringing sound, and he laughed. "I forgot to turn it on!"

Norway rolled his eyes. "Idiot." He turned and started to play the violin again, ignoring the fact that Denmark was staring at him. "Leave me alone," he ordered as he continued to play.

"I've never heard that song before," the Dane commented. "New one?"

"...I wrote it."

Denmark's eyes widened. "For real? That's awesome! You didn't tell me you were writing your own music!"

"That's because I didn't want you to know; I don't want anyone to know."

Denmark's smile disappeared. "Why not?"

Norway stopped playing and turned around to glare at Denmark. "I want you to leave me alone," he repeated, his voice deadly serious. "Right now, I'm scared out of my mind and wishing that Alexander wasn't so convincing. I need to practice." He looked back out at the water and started playing again. Denmark could hear the fear in the music.

He shook his head. "I'm not leaving," he asserted. "What happened? Come on, Nor, you can tell me."

Norway stopped again. Surprising to Denmark, he sat down and looked up at the gray sky. The Dane frowned and walked towards the edge of the fjord, sitting down next to Norway. He looked at him meaningfully and waited for him to speak.

Norway sighed. "Alexander asked me to play at his concert in Oslo this weekend."

Denmark jumped back a bit. "Really? That sounds awesome."

"And really short notice."

"Still awesome."

Norway sighed again. "For the most part, he just wants me to play back-up, but he also wants me to play one of my original songs towards the end. He thinks I'm ready." He looked over at Denmark, frowning sadly. "I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't want to do it. He's been away from here on tour for so long that I want to play with him when he comes home."

Denmark frowned back. "You know, I don't think you give yourself enough credit for what you do. Even back when we were kick-ass vikings beating the crap outta invaders, you never believed that you were able to contribute anything." He started to smile again. "But I remember watching you and thinking about how amazing you were. I mean, out of all of us, you usually beat up the most of our enemies since you can attack both physically and magically."

The Norwegian looked away again, blushing lightly. "No, I would just have adrenaline rushes. That's...actually why I came out here to Bergen." His gaze shifted out to the water. "Standing on a fjord can be dangerous, especially when you stand close to the edge. I was thinking that, if I got some kind of adrenaline rush, I might play better."

Denmark waited for the rest of the story and frowned when Norway refused to continue. He pursed his lips and scooted closer to his boyfriend. "...And?"

"And what?"

"Did you play any better?"

Norway didn't reply at first. Instead, he silently looked up, Denmark following his gaze to another fjord, this one higher, steeper, and more narrow. He understood without Norway needing to say anything. "I did. But I would play even better if I could get an ever greater rush."

Denmark was hesitant in his reply at first. "I don't like the thought of you standing on the edge of the tallest fjord out here," he murmured. "It's dangerous."

The Norwegian shook his head. "No, that's the point, to forget about how scary something is and just go for it. To feel that hot rush of blood in your veins, to do something despite how dangerous it is. If I could do all that, _then_ I would play better." He looked back at Denmark. "But I'm too afraid. Of both the fjord and the concert."

Denmark smiled. "At least you're opening up to me," he semi-joked. "That's pretty incredible in itself."

"Way to ruin the moment, idiot." Norway rolled his eyes and stood. "Satisfied now? Can you leave me alone now?" He frowned and started to play his violin again, closing his eyes and trying to lose himself in the music. He barely registered when Denmark picked his luggage up and headed down the fjord. He mentally hoped that his boyfriend either found a hotel or went back to Copenhagen. How long had he dragged that luggage bag?

A few minutes later, Norway stopped playing. He opened his eyes and looked around to see that he was alone, just like he had asked. He frowned, somewhat wishing that Denmark hadn't left yet also happy that he was gone. "What the hell," he muttered to himself, "I have no idea of what I want." He looked up at that tall fjord and nodded. Silently, he put the violin back in its case and headed towards it.

He soon found himself at the top, standing near the narrowest part but not right on it. Biting his lip, he took the violin out of its case again and started to play it, comparing his performance there to his performance back at the other fjord. _Better,_ he thought, liking how the music was forming. His heart was pumping, a bit of sweat was starting to form at his brow despite the freezing temperature, and his entire body was feeling light. Knowing he was so close to the narrowest part of the fjord was definitely helping.

Swallowing thickly, he started to walk towards the edge of the fjord, marveling out how beautiful the music was becoming. The closer he got, the more amazing it sounded to him. He felt a sense of excitement come over him, and he breathed deeply before taking another step forward.

_No._

Norway stopped playing and held his breath. He looked out over the water and let his arms drop, taking a step back. Safer. The adrenaline rush disappeared, leaving him with shaky legs and a horrible feeling of fear.

He swore harshly and made his way down the fjord, back to the safety of Bergen's shores.

* * *

"I get the feeling that Norway doesn't want us here."

Denmark shook his head. "Nonsense! Nor would want us to be here for him!" He grinned and wrapped his arm around Finland, leading him into the stadium, ignoring the growl from Sweden behind him. Sealand's eyes widened when he heard the sound coming from his father. "Friends support each other, you know," Denmark continued. "Plus, I wouldn't give up the chance to see Alex in concert here in Oslo!"

Iceland rolled his eyes. "You sure you wouldn't just make Norway more nervous?" he asked as the Nordics made their way to their seats, close to the front and center part of the stadium. He took a moment to admire how good the seats were. They could see the entire stage, and Iceland had a feeling that Alexander would be playing right near where they were. That made his stomach drop. It also meant that Norway would easily be able to see them. Denmark was too busy cheering about the awesome seats to reply.

Eventually, the concert began. Alexander, Norway, and the rest of the background singers and musicians took the stage. The Nordics jumped at the screaming girls around them, begging for Alexander to acknowledge them. Sweden grabbed Finland and held him close, muttering something about how no crazy girls would tackle his wife. Finland didn't have the heart to tell him that they were crying out for Alexander.

"Thank you all for coming tonight!" the singer greeted, smiling brightly. "I feel so happy to be back in my favorite city in the world!" He laughed and waited for the cheering to quiet before he spoke again. "You're all making me feel so welcomed! I had a wonderful time touring the rest of Europe, but there really is no place like home. Shall we get started?" He smiled brighter when the audience cheered again. "Okay, let's go!"

With that, he began to play his violin and singing the first song of the night. "I won't blame the hurting on you. You left in the sweetest way..." "Roll with the Wind."

The Nordics enjoyed the music but mostly kept their eyes on Norway. He was playing his own violin in the background, his expression tense and focused. He looked nervous, like he was anticipating making a mistake. Denmark frowned at this. _Lighten up, Nor,_ he thought, _no one is going to notice or care if you make a little mistake. Everyone is too focused on Alex! _He clapped when the first song ended but couldn't stop staring at Norway, who was still frowning even as he and the other background musicians started playing the next song, "Funny Little World."

This went on for the better part of the concert. Norway played through the rest of the songs with that same terrified expression. Even from his seat, Denmark could see every little bit of his boyfriend's facial expression and how slightly it would change every time Norway thought he had made a mistake. One thing Denmark did have to give him credit for, however, was that he kept on playing. He never stopped, probably because he was too afraid of what he would think and/or do if he did stop. Either that or he just wanted the concert to end as soon as possible.

The other familiar, successful singles were also played. "Oah," "Europe Skies," "Suomi (Finland)." Denmark kept his eyes on Norway the entire time, hardly registering when Sweden hugged his wife tighter during "Suomi (Finland)." "No 'ne t'kes m'wife fr'm m'," he growled out. Finland just laughed nervously and tried to make sure his circulation was still working properly.

Sealand grinned up at them. "At least Mama doesn't have a blue lightning bolt on his face at _this _concert!"

"Bring that up again and you're grounded."

"Yes, Mama..."

"Don't call me that!"

Towards the end of the concert, Alexander took a moment to speak to the audience. "And now," he began, "I want to introduce a very special friend of mine, who wrote a song I want you all to hear." He turned and motioned for Norway to come closer to the front of the stage, grinning happily. Norway stayed silent and neutral, waving to the audience as he took his place next to his friend. "This is Nor!" Alexander explained as he turned back to the audience. "This concert is his debut on stage. Give it up for him!" He laughed a bit when the audience cheered for Norway.

Denmark cheered the loudest.

Alexander moved away from the center of the stage as he winked at his nation. "It's all yours," he whispered, which, surprisingly, Norway could hear perfectly.

Norway looked out at the audience and swallowed hard as he brought the violin to his chin. _One...two...three!_ He began to play and sing, thinking of that tall fjord out in Bergen, praying that the audience was liking what it was hearing. He couldn't tell. He drowned out everything and only focused on the music, so he couldn't hear when the audience started to clap for him.

Denmark felt a wave of relief wash over him. _Nor,_ he thought, _can't you hear how wonderful you are? Can't you hear how much the audience loves you? Why do you still look so angry? You're good enough. No, you're beyond good enough. You're amazing! If Prussia were here, he'd say you were awesome! Why can't you see that?_

Suddenly, Norway's playing slowed down, and his eyes widened in fear. He was drawing a blank on the music he had written. He couldn't even remember the lyrics! Paralyzed by the fear, his playing came to a screeching halt. He suddenly hated himself more than ever. He had let the fear of being out on stage, the fear of presenting himself to the public, and the fear of standing on the edge of that fjord get to him.

Humiliating...until he heard a violin being played. He looked over at Alexander and saw that his friend was playing for him. He then looked out at the audience, which was still cheering. _They didn't notice,_ he realized. _They all thought it was part of the act. _He gasped slightly when he saw a few of his fairy friends appear before him, wondering what they were doing there. He watched as they flew up towards the ceiling of the stadium and began to sparkle so that everyone could see them.

The effect was incredible. Lights began to flash everywhere, and the glitter began to fall down towards the stage and audience, making the whole stadium shine. The audience just cheered louder. Norway realized that they thought it was just another special effect.

Feeling confident again, Norway looked towards Alexander and nodded slightly at him, signaling that he was ready to play again. Alexander finished his solo, and Norway immediately took the stage again, playing passionately and singing with such life as he slowly walked towards the edge of the stage.

Denmark nearly cried out but stopped himself short. Yes, it was dangerous to stand on the edge of the stage. That was exactly why Norway was doing it.

It worked. Norway played better than he ever had before, standing on his tiptoes at the very edge of the stage. He could fall over at any moment, he knew, but the adrenaline rush that came with the danger was so strong. That mixed with the cheering, clapping, and encouragement from the audience just added to the feeling of invincibility, the feeling of freedom and power.

Like he was flying.

Like he could do _anything._

And then, the song ended. The audience exploded and started chanting Norway's stage name. Alexander clapped for his friend as well, and Norway realized that the entire group of background musicians were clapping for him, too. He looked up at the audience and smiled wide. "THANK YOU, OSLO!" he screamed into the microphone. He looked down at the audience and smiled wider when he spotted Denmark, who was cheering his head off, his usual, stupid smile on his face.

Norway's smile softened a bit as he looked back out at the audience. "I wrote that song for a good friend of mine," he explained, catching the crowd's attention. "He's always been there for me, and he's always encouraged me. He's loved me all the times I didn't even love myself. That...that means the world to me." He looked back down at Denmark and smiled down at him lovingly.

"I love you, Den."

He laughed a bit when the girls in the audience exploded with squeals and cheers for the two of them. Denmark laughed out loud. "I never thought I'd ever hear THAT!" No one could hear him over the screams from the rest of the audience, but he didn't care. He looked back up at Norway and realized that he had tears in his eyes. No, they were running down his cheeks freely. Denmark smiled back at him.

"I love you, too."

Norway didn't hear it, but he felt it. He wiped the tears away from his eyes and felt a warm glow in his chest. His heart was beating fast, still with adrenaline. He realized that it was melting, melting for Denmark and for himself.

_...Why did I ever hate myself so much?_

"Thank you so much, Nor!" Alexander said into the microphone, smiling. He moved back from it and gave his friend a hug. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered into his ear. "I _told_ you you were great." He released his friend and turned back to the audience. "WHO WANTS TO HEAR MORE?"

Norway knew what Alexander meant. The two looked at each other and gave the audience what it wanted.

"THIS IS FOR _MY_ FAIRYTALE!" Norway screamed out as the two began to play the famous song. "I LOVE YOU, DEN!"

* * *

Days later, the duo would discover that the concert had received some of the highest praise from critics in recent Norwegian entertainment history.

But that didn't matter much to Norway. Days later, he was back in Bergen, standing on the tallest fjord, playing his violin, Denmark standing behind him, watching. The Dane resisted the urge to stop him when he started walking towards the edge of the fjord. Slowly, Norway made it there, standing on his tiptoes at the narrowest point. Denmark just listened, smiling as he remembered the concert. This was how his beloved had played then.

The song ended and Norway looked out at the water, feeling like he could jump off the edge of the fjord and fly. He smiled slightly and took a step back until he was safely next to Denmark, who wrapped an arm around him lovingly.

"So Alex's record label really wants you to release your own album, huh?

Norway nodded. "I've already started working on it. I'll be out by next fall."

"Awesome."

Denmark kissed his temple. Norway just smiled a little wider and bent down to put the violin back in its case. The Dane watched him and captured him in a hug as he stood again. "I love you," he whispered.

Norway nodded. "I love you, too."

"And now the entire city of Oslo knows it!"

"Oh, shut up."

Denmark laughed quietly and leaned down to kiss his boyfriend. Norway returned the action, and their lips met in an innocent kiss. Against the dark skies of the Norwegian winter, snow started to fall around them. They stayed quiet and listened to it. Norway smiled a little wider and broke the kiss. "I love the sound of falling snow."

Denmark nodded. "Me, too." He hugged his boyfriend tighter and kissed the top of his head. "Should we head back to your home? It'll be close to bedtime by the time we make it to Oslo."

Norway smirked. "Who said we'd sleep once we got home?"

Oh yeah, Denmark definitely had the best boyfriend in the world. He snickered a bit and grinned in anticipation. Norway looked up at him and rested his head against his chest. "Thank you for everything, Den. Thank you for standing out here with me. I love you."

"I would do anything as long as I got to do it with you, even stand out on the dangerous edge of a fjord." He buried his face in Norway's hair and smiled. "I'll always be out here with you, living on the edge, like the awesome vikings we are! Because I love you, Norway."

"I love you, too, Denmark."

_And so, the viking conquered his fears and fell even deeper in love with the king. The king took the viking back to the palace, where the two married._

_And they all lived happily ever after._

_I'm on The Edge of Glory,_

_And I'm hangin' on a moment of truth._

_I'm on The Edge of Glory,_

_And I'm hangin' on a moment with you._

_I'm on The Edge,_

_The Edge, The Edge, The Edge, The Edge, The Edge, The Edge,_

_I'm on The Edge of Glory,_

_And I'm hangin' on a moment with you._

_I'm on The Edge with you!_

END

**Author's Note: **Stay with me! I have remixes, bonus tracks, epilogues, and the CD booklet waiting for you!

For Grammy, whose family left Bergen, Norway, and came to the United States of America one hundred years ago, who shared her love of and her pride for her culture with me, who passed The Edge into her Glory.

For Clarence Clemons, who shared his passion and gift with the world, who made me proud to be from New Jersey, who passed The Edge into his Glory.

Thank you, Mother Monster, for recording "The Edge of Glory" in Oslo, Norway, for making beautiful music with a member of New Jersey's E Street Band, and for bringing my two homes, Norway and New Jersey, together.


	18. BONUS: BTW International Remix

**Author's Note:** Gakuen Hetalia. It's what you've all been waiting for.

A few things real quick. First of all, the "Yoü and I" video is out! There's already talk that it might be more visually stunning than "Bad Romance." What do you think? All I know is that I'm more sure than ever that that song _is_ Prussia's song.

The other thing is that I have art up in my DeviantART gallery (which is my homepage on my profile here) for _Born This Hetalian Way! _CD covers, actually. I drew a cover for each character/song and put them all together into one big picture. Please go check it out and comment/fave if you have a DA account.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Born This Way (International Remix)**

**I was born this way.**

Gilbert rubbed his palms together in an attempt to warm them as he stood outside his brother's rented home. That Saturday night was especially cold, which was odd for the late September weather. It made Gilbert uneasy. If things didn't work out tonight, they might never work out.

"One chance," he whispered, resting his face against his palms, warming his cheeks. "One chance to be awesome and make everything right." He nodded to himself and dropped one of his arms. The other one reached out, and its hand twisted the doorknob. He invited himself inside.

"Yo, West!" he called, shutting the door behind him. "Where you at, bro?"

"Leave me alone, Brother," came Ludwig's voice. Gilbert followed it down a hallway to his brother's bedroom. Ludwig was sitting at his desk, glasses perched on his nose, staring down at a stack of papers and several open books. Gilbert scanned them quickly. Textbooks, a lot of them. A few reference books, too. Lame.

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come to the mixer with me," he asserted, crossing his arms. "It's Saturday night, West. You're being an un-awesome loser and studying."

"Like a good student."

"On a Saturday night."

"I'm better than you."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Don't gimme that shit, West," he growled. "Stop being a douche and come with me. This is important."

Ludwig tore his eyes away from his textbook and glared at his brother skeptically. "What in the world could be more important than this set of calculus problems in front of me? I ask you, Brother, what?"

"How about your non-existent social life!" Gilbert threw his arms in the air and let out an exasperated groan. "Dammit, West, it's like I'm talking to a friggin' brick wall here! A brick wall that's dead set on being a pain in everyone's ass!" He dropped his arms and stared at the younger German. "What the hell happened to you, West? You used to be different. Still a socially awkward, un-awesome stick-in-the-mud...but you at least _wanted_ to change. You wanted to make friends and have relationships and hang out and stuff. Then this year started. You became a junior and broke up with Feli, and you _changed. _Seriously, what the hell happened? What _happened_ to you?"

Ludwig was hesitant to respond at first. He looked away stubbornly and took his glasses off. Biting his lip, he let his head drop and finally spoke. "I really don't want to talk about it, Brother."

"For the love of Prussia!" Gilbert was really close to slamming his head against a wall. He resisted this growing urge and glared at his brother instead. "Dammit, West, you're impossible. And I don't know why you're not talking, especially not to me."

Ludwig cocked an eyebrow. "Why the hell would I talk to _you_ about my problems?"

"Because I'm your brother! Your big brother! You can tell me _anything!_"

"Screw you. That's a lie."

"Like hell I'd lie! Only un-awesome people lie!"

"Shut up!" Ludwig snapped, staring back up at the albino. "Shut up, Brother, okay? Just _shut up_. You have no idea of what you're talking about. You've never had to deal with any of my problems. You've never suffered or been bullied or teased or harassed or anything like that! You don't know what I've dealt with my entire life! So just shut up and leave me alone!" He picked up one of the closed textbooks and threw it at his brother, aiming for his head.

Luckily, Gilbert dodged the heavy book just in the nick of time. He twitched at the noise of the crash against the wall behind him and stared at his brother in disbelief. "What did you say?" he gasped. "How friggin' ignorant are you? How _dare_ you talk shit like that to me..."

"What?"

"_You're_ the one who doesn't know what _you're_ talking about, West," Gilbert hissed, voice dripping with venom. "You know _nothing._ My life hasn't been peaches and freakin' cream, you bastard. I've had my fair share of torment from my peers."

Ludwig could hardly believe his ears, but he refused to accept what his brother was saying as a fact. "I bet it's nothing like what I've dealt with..."

"YOU'RE WRONG!" Gilbert slammed his palms down on his brother's desk and got close to his facing, red eyes glaring daggers into the blond. Ludwig gulped nervously as his brother began to talk. "I've been teased, bullied, and harassed just as much as you have, West. _Look at me._ I had silver hair as a _child. _Kids said I was an old man too stupid to make it past grade school. You know how I've never really been able to stay in the sunlight for long because of my albino skin? Kids used to tease me about it, saying I was a freak. They used to drag me out into the sunlight and _sit on me_ to be sure that I couldn't get up and hide in the shade. Remember all those times I'd come home from school with red patches on my skin? Those were sunburns and marks from where they would grab onto me to keep me from escaping. Not only that, but my eyes are _red_. How many people do you know with red eyes? Kids were afraid of me. They thought I was some kind of monster. I never had play dates with kids from my grade growing up because even their parents were scared of me! One mom even called me the Devil's child once because of my red eyes!"

"Brother-!"

"I'm not done! I don't look like anyone else in our family. I didn't look anything like Mom and Dad. Kids and teachers used to gossip about how I was either adopted or some unloved bastard child. They always talked about how YOU were the better, _loved_ child and how you were _WANTED! _I was JEALOUS of you, West! I wanted to be that kid that everyone left alone, the one that people respected. Neither one of us had any friends, but you at least had your teachers' respect. I didn't even have _that_. It wasn't until I attended Hetalia Academy that I met any real friends. It's why Francis and Antonio and I have stuck together. They accepted me for who I was. Hell, nearly everyone there did!"

Ludwig stared at his brother in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in awe. He swallowed thickly and shook slightly when he spoke. "But...you never told me any of that while we were growing up. You were always so happy and confident. What...?"

Gilbert shook his head in shame. "I lied, West, okay? I'm sorry." He moved away from the desk and held his head in his twitching hands. "I smiled and laughed and never told you about anything that ever happened to me because I didn't want you to be scared or worry about me. I didn't want you to think that the world was evil, and I didn't want you to know that I was miserable. I wanted to be your awesome big brother; I wanted to be someone you could look up to! That was my job, especially after Mom and Dad died. I know, you were too little at the time, so you don't remember them at all. I just felt like I had to be the one to make you smile, and I couldn't do that if I was constantly showing you just how sad I was!"

Gilbert sniffed and wiped his eyes, refusing to let himself get emotional in front of his younger brother. He took and deep breath and let his arms drop. "So there. Now you know the truth. I just want you to be happy, West. You just seem so miserable right now." He turned and walked out of the room, down the hall. Ludwig could hear him slam the front door shut as he left the house but not before he heard his brother say, "Please...get back together with Feli."

Ludwig sat at his desk, processing everything his brother had just told him. He rested his elbow on the desk and leaned his head against his fist, contemplating what to do. He had a lot of calculus problems left, and he had an application to finish. Then he had planned on reading ahead in his literature textbook.

Instead, Ludwig picked up his cellphone and scrolled down his contacts list. "Feliciano Vargas" was still there, undeleted. Next to the number was a picture of his ex-boyfriend, a huge, happy smile on his face.

Ludwig closed his calculus textbook and grabbed his coat.

* * *

Gilbert was prepared to cancel the whole mixer until he saw Lillie standing outside the gym where it would be taking place. She was smiling brightly, her face radiating more light than the decorations over the gym entrance. "Gilbert!" she called, motioning for him to meet her there. The albino put on his best smile and greeted her.

"Hey, Lillie," he said, "the place looks great. You did a good job."

Lillie giggled a bit. "Thank you. Look!" She pointed to the sign above the entrance. "I even came up with a name. 'Electric Chapel.' Do you like it?"

Gilbert tilted his head a bit. "Where did you come up with that name?"

"I really have no idea. I just thought of it and told Ms. Karpusi and Ms. Hassan about it. They both liked it and agreed to make it the name of the mixer."

Gilbert shrugged, satisfied. "If it works." He smiled sympathetically. "Thanks a lot for your help, Lillie. You've been awesome."

Lillie curtsied for him. "You're welcome."

Suddenly, Gilbert's cellphone rang. He yanked it out of his pocket, hoping it was his brother. The phone failed him, however, and he sighed. "Gimme a sec, Lillie. I gotta take this." He headed towards the side of the gym and answered the phone. "Hey, old man."

"I have told you a million times not to call me that, Gilbert," came the voice of the albino's academic advisor at the university he was attending in Berlin. He sounded disappointed. "Why have you not called me since the start of the school year? You agreed to call me at least twice a week to report your progress with this student teaching job."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gilbert groaned leaning his back and head against the wall of the gym. "I'm sorry, old man, lots of crap has just come up. Lots of family and relationship drama."

There was a pause on the other end. "Are you having problems with your Ukrainian girlfriend?"

"No, not me. My brother. He broke up with his boyfriend at the beginning of the year and is being a total dick about it." Gilbert let out a heavy sigh. "I've been trying to get to the bottom of why and get them back together. I'm sorry, seriously. As soon as all this blows over, I'll contact you about how the teaching thing has been going, I promise."

"...Did I call at a bad time?"

"Sort of. Hetalia Academy is having a mixer tonight. We're hoping to get West and his ex back together at what we're calling the 'Electric Chapel'."

Another long pause. "You make it sound like you're trying to get them to marry tonight."

"Friiiiiiiiiiiitz..."

The old man laughed. "Sorry, Gilbert, I'm teasing you. Anyway, good luck and don't forget to call me sometime soon, okay? Normally, I'd leave you alone, but I need to submit the reports you send me to the registrar."

"I understand." Gilbert smiled again. "Thanks a lot, old man, I'll talk to you later." And he hung up, still smiling. Gilbert absolutely adored his academic advisor. Talking to him always made him feel better.

After another moment of quiet, the German headed back towards the front of the gym and welcomed the students who were filing inside. He spotted Roderich and Elizaveta. "Specs!"

Roderich looked up. "Hello, Gilbert," he replied. "So? Is Ludwig coming?"

Gilbert visibly deflated. "I have no idea. I tried to get him to leave the house, but I don't know if he did."

"_Scheiße..._"

"Yeah, no kidding...Wait a second, Specs, did you just swear?"

"His academic advisor back in Vienna is breathing down his neck," Elizaveta interrupted. "It's been a long day. She wants his reports on his student teaching, but she also keeps complaining about her lover. Don't mind him."

"No way," Gilbert gasped quietly, "my advisor is all up on me about that, too."

"Well," Roderich continued, "all this drama surrounding Feliciano and Ludwig has taken a toll on all of us. Plus, our universities _are_ rivals."

Gilbert grinned. "Mine's more awesome than yours."

The Austrian rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know," he groaned. "Can we please just get on with this whole thing? Perhaps someone else should go over to Ludwig's house and try to convince him to come?"

Gilbert shook his head and frowned. "West is being violent. He threw his huge-ass textbook at me head."

"Aiyah!" came a voice behind him. "Are you okay?" It was Yao, who had graduated from the academy two years earlier, same as Gilbert. Now he was back as a student teacher for the health department.

"No, I'm fine," the albino insisted, "thanks."

"You sure, aru?"

"Yeah, the book didn't hit me."

"Oh, good!" Yao smiled. "Sorry, I'm here studying thanks to my country's government, so I have to do a good job!" He was about to enter the gym when Gilbert stopped him.

"Can you still keep close to the scene if West does show up?" he asked. "I don't want any incident, but if he does get violent again..."

Yao smiled again. "Understood, aru."

His smile didn't ease Gilbert's mind. As the rest of the students entered the gym and began socializing, he actually became even more nervous. He couldn't find Feliciano or Ludwig anywhere.

At least it seemed like the rest of the students were having a good time. He could overhear Alfred trying to explain to the new Vietnamese transfer student that he had once taught his alien friend to speak Spanish. The poor girl looked extremely confused, especially when the American started to call her "Mary."

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Because I don't know your real name."

"...You could have asked, you know."

_Typical Alfred, _Gilbert mused as he watched Arthur chase an Australian sophomore across the gym, screaming about what a bad kid he was. _Must have done something to piss him off. Of course, it doesn't take much to piss Arthur off. _He also tried to ignore Sadiq harassing Heracles about Kiku being in love with him, not the Greek. _Yeah right,_ Gilbert couldn't help but think, _keep telling yourself that, Sadiq. _Near them, Ms. Hassan was insisting that her son's hair was a mess. _Gupta barely has any hair to mess up..._

The albino snapped out of his trance when he saw a familiar face across the gym. "Feli," he gasped, eyes wide. He looked around quickly to see if there were any Apostles around to see him. Sure enough, he received knowing looks from Roderich and Elizaveta. Ivan and Raivis ran to him, eager to share what they had seen. His phone buzzed with text messages from Francis and Antonio. Kiku tore himself away from Sadiq and Heracles to gasp. Lillie squeezed Vash's hand when she laid her eyes on the Italian.

What they saw pleased none of them. Feliciano looked absolutely miserable, eyes dull and face lifeless. He had lost his cheer and his charm. It broke Gilbert's heart. He loved Feliciano so much. He believed that the little Italian was perfect for his little brother, bringing much needed happiness and fun to his stiff, austere lifestyle. Frowning, the albino started to think about his girlfriend. "Katy," he called her. Would this be how she would be if he unfairly broke up with her? He felt like crying just thinking about it.

He was about to greet Feliciano in an attempt to put a smile on the boy's face when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He whipped his head around quickly and gasped loudly, eyes wide.

"West..."

It was true. Ludwig was standing near the entrance of the gym, still dressed in his coat, like he had just arrived. Gilbert had no idea of how long his brother had been there, but that didn't bother him. He looked towards Feliciano to see his reaction, but the Italian hadn't noticed his ex.

At that moment, Ms. Karpusi and Ms. Hassan came up behind Gilbert. "Oh, my God," the Egyptian woman gasped, "he actually came..."

The Greek woman nodded. "It really worked..."

Gilbert shook his head. "Not yet," he murmured, "we still have to get them back together."

Something buzzed. Gilbert fished his cellphone out of his pants pocket, thinking it might be Fritz or one of The Apostles, but he was shocked to find that Feliks had sent him a message. He opened it and gasped suddenly. "Oh, my..."

The two teachers looked at the phone. "What?"

Without replying, Gilbert called Feliks. After two rings, he was met with snickering on the other end. "You want it?"

"How THE HELL did you get your hands on this? It's not supposed to be released for _months!_" the albino exclaimed, feeling both frustrated and confused. He narrowed his eyes, and his face twisted when Feliks kept snickering.

"I, like, have sources," he giggled. "So? You want it?"

"Send it to me, you idiot fashionista!"

"On one condition."

"Anything!"

"You come to my place next weekend and marathon _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic _with me."

Gilbert's jaw dropped. "What!" he cried. "No way! I can't believe you watch that shit! Why can't you just gimme that file?"

Feliks just snickered again. "Remember what happened last time I forced you to pay attention to something you thought you hated?"

Gilbert swore.

"So it's totes settled then!" the Polish boy squealed. "Awesome, Gilly, you're gonna love it! Here's, like, what you need."

The albino soon found that he had another message from Feliks. He hung up the call without saying goodbye and quickly opened the file, marveling at it as if it were gold. He swallowed hard and ran to the DJ, who was none other than Tino, last year's dance DJ. In moments, music filled the gym.

_It doesn't matter if you love him or capital H-I-M..._

Gilbert ran back to the entrance of the gym and quickly found his brother again. Thank God, Ludwig was still there, but he looked shellshocked, like he had just had an epiphany.

_Just put your paws up...'cuz you were born this way, baby._

For the longest time, Gilbert and Ludwig just stood there, the former staring at the latter. Ludwig was looking up at the ceiling of the gym, absorbing the lyrics. He had never heard this song before. No one had. But it sounded so familiar, like he had heard the words before.

Gilbert waited. _What is going through West's mind?_ he wondered.

Then he heard another sound. Turning, he saw that someone else had joined Tino, his Norwegian friend who had graduated the year before. Gilbert didn't know him personally, so he was stunned to see that he was playing a violin, adding his own music to the song playing from the stereos. He stepped up on the bleachers and stood on the edge of them, moving the bow across the strings passionately.

Gilbert eyed him. It was almost as if he knew what Gilbert and his teammates had been doing. He noticed the Norwegian's younger brother, who was the same age as Ludwig and Feliciano, standing near him, smiling. It was a bit creepy to the albino until the Icelandic boy spoke.

"Look at your brother."

Gilbert did so and nearly fell over. He could see tears beginning to form in the corners of his brothers' eyes. Tears! His brother _never_ cried. Perhaps...

"He's on the road to love."

Gilbert just nodded and clasped his palms together, thankful. It seemed like his plan was working.

_No matter gay, straight, or bi, lesbian, transgendered life, I'm on the right track, baby, I was born to survive._

Ludwig jumped in his spot and ran out of the gym. Gilbert took a step back in shock. "WEST!" he shouted, starting to run after his brother. He suddenly stopped short when he felt a tugging on his shirt. Turning around, he saw Feliciano, a desperate look in his eyes.

"Gilbert," he gasped sadly, "what's going on? What have you been planning?"

The German frowned. He didn't want to say anything. He didn't want Feliciano to know what he had been doing, what so many of his friends were doing. They had been so close, and he didn't want to ruin any chances they might have had left. But he also knew that he could hide things from Feliciano forever.

...A lot of things.

He took one last look at the entrance. Ludwig was already out of sight. Sighing heavily, he turned back to the Italian before him.

"Feliciano," he breathed, "you and I need to talk."

He didn't notice Ms. Karpusi run outside to search for Ludwig. She scanned the area, hoping to see him, but he was long gone. She bit her lip and held her palm up to her face, rubbing under her eyes to stop herself from crying.

"We were so damn close," she whimpered.

"Mom?"

The woman looked up at her son, who looked genuinely concerned for her. Now she couldn't help the tears falling from her eyes. _When did he get so big?_ she thought. _He was still shorter than me when he entered high school. It feels like it wasn't four years ago. It feels so much shorter than that..._

The look on his mother's face broke Heracles's heart. "Mom...why...?"

Ms. Karpusi shook her head. "I'm so sorry, baby," she whispered. "I couldn't take care of you properly, and I can't help Feliciano..."

"Whoa, what?" the young Greek asked. "What...? Mom, no, you take care of me just fine. I'd rather live with you than Dad. Dad...never took care of us. That was why you divorced, right?"

Ms. Karpusi nodded, still crying. "I just...I always question it."

Heracles smiled softly. "Just like a philosopher would."

That got a laugh out of his mother. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so proud of you," she murmured through her now-happy tears. "You're so smart, so strong..."

Her son wrapped his arms back around her in a hug. "I love you, Mom. You've always been a queen to me..."

The two were suddenly interrupted by Feliciano running by, frenzied and panicked, screaming out for Ludwig. They both looked up and watched him run, impressed at how fast he was going. They then saw Gilbert run out of the gym and stop short before her could get too far. Guilt was all over his face.

Ms. Karpusi turned her attention to him. "Gilbert?"

"Dammit," the albino hissed, "not awesome. I'm in serious trouble."

* * *

Ludwig ran down the street, back to his house, sweating and out of breath. He didn't stop until he made it to his front door. He didn't go inside right away though, instead taking a moment to catch his breath. He leaned against the front door exhaled shakily. "Keep it together," he told himself. "Dammit, Ludwig, you're stronger than this..."

"Ludwig!"

A chill ran down the German's spine. He turned quickly and came face-to-face with Feliciano, who had tears streaming down his cheeks. The Italian sobbed pitifully and shook in his spot, shaking his head slowly. "I can't believe it," he mumbled into his hands. "You..."

Ludwig held his breath. "I...!" He ground his teeth and slammed his fist against the door. "I can't do it anymore! Goddammit!" He stared at Feliciano, tears starting to run down his cheeks. "I can't, I just can't!"

"What...?"

"I LOVE YOU, FELICIANO VARGAS!"

The little Italian soon found himself in the arms of his ex-boyfriend, wrapped in a warm, loving hug. He cried harder and snuggled into the German's embrace, so happy to feel it again after so long. For what felt like hours, they just stood there, crying and hugging each other, completely forgetting about the rest of the world. Ludwig didn't want to face the reality of what he had done, and Feliciano had too many mixed emotions that were all coming out in that moment at the same time.

"I'm sorry," Ludwig sobbed, bringing Feliciano closer.

The Italian nodded. "I'm sorry, too..."

"...But you didn't do anything wrong."

"LET'S JUST BOTH BE SORRY SO WE CAN HAVE MAKE-UP SEX AND DATE AGAIN!"

Ludwig choked on both his tears and laughter, nodding. "Yes, yes," he agreed, "I like that." He tilted Feliciano's head up so their watery eyes locked and kissed him, sweetly and innocently at first. It was actually Feliciano who pulled Ludwig's head down and made the kisses more passionate.

The German broke the kisses briefly. "I want to explain-"

"Later," Feliciano cut him off, starting the kisses up again.

Ludwig didn't stop him again.

* * *

Neither one said anything until they were both laying in Ludwig's bed together, Feliciano clutching his love desperately, scared that, if he were to let go or even loosen his grip, Ludwig would disappear. The Italian didn't want to say anything, and he never wanted the night to end. He wondered what would happened if he had to face another harsh reality. It was a painful thought, since he liked pretending that everything was perfect and that he and Ludwig were happy together. He tried to push the possibility of Ludwig lying to him out of his mind. His love didn't do that. He never would.

But Feliciano also knew that he couldn't play pretend. This wasn't a story, a happy fairy tale from his childhood. This was the real world, and he had a real issue to face. He looked up at Ludwig, who was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Feliciano clung to him, snuggling into his chest. Oh, how he had missed Ludwig's muscles and warm, pale skin...

"I'm so sorry."

Feliciano sat up in bed, taking in Ludwig's words. He finally let him go and turned so he could look down at him, his face still sad and somewhat heartbroken. "Why did you break up with me if you still loved me?" he asked quietly. He knew it was a hard question, but it still needed to be asked.

Ludwig was visibly squirming as he searched for the right words. It was an odd sight for Feliciano, seeing him so flustered. He was usually the epitome of the calm, serious student. It told the Italian that he was just as scared and heartbroken as he was. Somehow, that made him feel better. Ludwig was so much more human at times like this, when he showed weaknesses and vulnerability. He always tried so hard to be in control and lead the people around him, and he always put so much pressure on himself. Feliciano constantly worried about him, afraid that his love would drive himself insane, so he was strangely happy to see Ludwig show his weaker points. He couldn't help it; he loved everything about Ludwig, even the things Ludwig hated about himself.

The German finally nodded and sat up in bed. The sheets dropped to his waist, but he didn't care to cover his nakedness. If there was ever a moment to bare it all, it was then. He looked at Feliciano seriously, but there was also a sense of remorse in his eyes. Feliciano felt a small fire burn with anticipation within him. He knew he was about to receive the explanation he had wanted for so long.

Ludwig took a deep breath. "Don't say anything until I'm done speaking, okay?"

Feliciano nodded.

"...Thank you. Now..." He took one last deep breath and began his story. "Throughout the summer, I was working a part-time job in a major business section of Berlin. One of those companies was an engineering company. An employer discovered me and asked me about my plans for my future. I've always wanted to work for an engineering company, so I was really excited. I gave him everything, my transcripts, my resume, everything.

"A few days later, he called me back. He gave me...Oh God, he gave me one of the most amazing opportunities of my life. He explained that his boss was extremely impressed with me, especially for a high school student, and wanted me to work for the company. He said that...if I worked hard and graduated from high school early while maintaining my perfect grades, he would give me an opportunity to apply an entry-level job while I was studying at one of the top universities in Berlin. It was too good of an opportunity to give up...

"I became so obsessed with the job and the university that I became extremely paranoid. I started thinking about all the things that would hinder my chances at that job, and it went beyond just the fear of not doing well in all my classes, though that was major, too. This year, I took all the senior-level, advanced classes at the same time, in hopes that it would look even more impressive. My God, they're so _difficult._ I never thought the work would be this hard. But I also started thinking about...my personal life. For some reason even I can't comprehend, I started to think that the company would reject me if the employers and bosses found out I was...homosexual. My guidance counselor even called me before school started to urge me to do whatever it took to get this job, which included breaking off any relationships that could be considered...unusual.

"I still can't believe I listened to him. He's a horrible man who should be fired. I wonder how many other students he's scarred for life. Still, I listened to him, and I tried to numb myself from the pain of giving up everything I had to get what I wanted. I've been alone for so long that...I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. I thought it wouldn't hurt so much.

"But it did! I broke my heart to see you so upset, and I should have stopped everything and come clean a long time ago. But I didn't. I had done so much damage that I thought I could never be forgiven. I really had betrayed you, Feli, you and everyone around me, including my brother, my friends, and my family, and I really had become Judas. I just...I just kept going along with everything I was doing wrong, hoping that everyone would get over it someday.

"...But then my brother told me something I never thought I'd ever hear. And then I heard that song...I've never heard it before. But...but it had such a great message that just made me realize that I'm _fine_ just as I am. It was just...too much to handle at the time. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, so I ran back here to escape the truth..."

Ludwig lowered his head. "And that's it," he finished. "That's my ridiculous explanation for acting like a horrible, vile, untrustworthy bastard."

For a long moment, the house was completely silent. Ludwig didn't move at all, waiting to hear Feliciano's reaction. He would be angry, furious, and leave him on the spot. _I deserve it,_ he thought, punishing himself. He was ready. No, he wasn't. He broke Feliciano's heart, so it only made sense that Feliciano would break his back.

Surprisingly, Ludwig felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He straightened his head and looked into the eyes of the little Italian, who was smiling lovingly at him. He soon found himself in a hug, a romantic hug between lovers. Feliciano rubbed his head against Ludwig's affectionately, taking in his musky, masculine scent as well as the smell of sex that lingered on the two of them. To hold him in his arms again and to smell these scents he loved so much felt so good. He never wanted to be away from him again.

"You're not Judas," he whispered. "Judas was never forgiven, ve."

Feliciano smiled at the tears he felt running down Ludwig's face. He hugged him closer and felt arms wrap around him and squeeze him close. He let a small laugh escape his lips snuggled into Ludwig's embrace.

"I love you," he whispered, a few tears starting to fall down his own face, "and I finally found you..."

Ludwig choked on a sob. "What?"

Feliciano shook his head, still smiling. "Let's not worry about that right now. I'll make Gilbert explain everything to you, ve. He has _a lot_ of explaining to do." He kissed Ludwig's neck passionately to be sure that he would leave a mark behind. "I love you so much..."

Ludwig nodded. "I love you, too. I love you so much, Feli. I'm going to reject that stupid job and change my schedule so I can spend more time with you as soon as I get on campus on Monday. I'm so sorry..."

"I forgive you."

"Take me back?"

"Of course."

What they didn't know was that Gilbert was leaning against Ludwig's bedroom, eyes closed and lips turned up in a smile. "I'm in a shitton of trouble," he quietly laughed to himself. "Feli's never gonna forgive me for this one." He stepped away from the door and laughed quietly to himself. _You were his childhood love all along, West. I swear, I'll explain everything to you tomorrow, Just, for now...be happy._

Satisfied, Gilbert walked down the hallway and back to the front door. When he opened it and stepped outside, he was met with The Apostles, who were all looking at him anxiously, waiting for answers.

"...Well?" Raivis squeaked out.

A huge grin lit up Gilbert's face. "We did it!"

"YES!" the whole group cheered, celebrating their victory.

"We did it," Gilbert repeated, this time quieter, looking down at Raivis. "We really did it..."

"Amen."

END


	19. BONUS: BTW Country Road Version

**Author's Note: **Gakuen Hetalia, graduation.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Born This Way (Country Road Version)**

Rome smiled proudly as he watched his youngest grandson walk through the auditorium with the other graduates and take his seat on the stage. The vice principal stood at the podium at the end of the stage, ready to make his speech. As soon as the last of the graduates took their seats, he cleared his throat and began.

"I want to thank you all for coming today. Principal Himaruya, sadly, could not be here today, so I will be speaking on his behalf today. ...Today is a day of pride and celebration for the fine young people seated here, as, today, they graduate from Hetalia Academy and take another step forward towards their futures. Whether or not a graduate is continuing on to a university is irrelevant in this case. Every single one of these students is gifted, talented, and destined for greatness. ...And now, this year's valedictorian will make a speech. It is my pleasure to introduce Ludwig Beilschmidt."

The large audience, comprised mostly of family of the graduates, clapped as Rome stepped away from the podium, allowing the German to rise from his seat and and take the position. Ludwig thanked Rome quietly and set up his papers. A small smile crept onto his face, and he seemed to radiate confidence in that moment. A rare sight.

"Thank you," he said. "...Four years ago, I never thought I would be here, making a speech like this. I never thought I would be speaking to a large crowd and feeling as comfortable as I do. Four years ago, I thought I had my life completely planned, only for all of those said plans to spiral out of control once I got here.

"But not in a bad way. Hetalia Academy taught me a lot more than just advanced physics and university-level calculus, complex literature and a history of delicate world politics. Here...I discovered who I am as a person, the person I was always meant to be. Growing up, I thought I knew who that was. I was sure that it was my destiny to be the top student in all of my classes and have a high-ranking job...without anybody around me. I was set on being alone for the rest of my life.

"Coming to this school changed all that. It challenged everything I thought I knew and forced me to consider what else was out there. I had to discover who I was all over again. I don't even know if I know who I am now, but I've finally realized that...that's okay. I think that all of us have learned that here. It's okay for us to change our minds and explore new and different possibilities. In fact, it makes no sense for us to plan our lives while we're this young. I've realized that even adults often change their minds and create new plans for themselves.

"What stops us, what stops everyone, from pursuing these new ideas...is fear. We are often too afraid to take a step forward and try something new. I was. I was forced to step outside my comfort zone at this school. I was forced to explore the unknown. At one point, I froze, paralyzed by fear. I was afraid of what could be, and I was afraid of failing. I think that we've all experienced this kind of fear before, and it's not an easy fear to get over. But that's why I was lucky to go to this school. Here...everyone wants to share a story, and everyone wants to make a connection. Those connections are what help us take that terrifying step outside our comfort zones. Without those connections I had made, I never would have stopped being afraid.

"This is my hope for the future. Today, we graduate from Hetalia Academy, but we are still representatives of what is possible in this world. We are able to make connections and help one another to create peace. If we carry that legacy with us into the rest of our lives, we will be able to create a bright, hopeful future. ...Congratulations, Class of 2012, we did it!"

The audience immediately cheered and applauded Ludwig's speech, standing for him as he walked back to his seat on stage. From that seat, the German could see his brother screaming his head off in glee, shouting, "That's MY brother! MY AWESOME LITTLE BROTHER!" Katy sat next to him, giggling as she clapped.

Rome took to the podium and grinned. "Thank you, Ludwig! Congratulations to you and the rest of the class!" He clapped for a few more seconds and then turned back to the audience, which had calmed down and been reseated. "And now, we will proceed with the handing out of the diplomas."

Germania joined him on stage with a rolling table full of the papers. One by one, the rows of graduates stood, and the individual students accepted their diplomas. Germania, in a rare display of affection, hugged his youngest grandson after the young man took his. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered in his ear, smiling. Ludwig smiled and shrugged slightly out of embarrassment.

"Thank you, Grandfather."

When it was Feliciano's turn to accept his diploma, Rome did the honors. He swept his grandson up in his arms and hugged him lovingly, almost squealing about how happy and proud he was. Feliciano giggled as he hugged his grandfather back. "Grandpa, your beard tickles!" he whispered between little giggles.

Rome laughed a bit and gave his grandson one last hug. "You've done wonderfully, Feli," he murmured. "I'm so proud. You and Lovi both...You're the best things that ever happened to me." He smiled sweetly and handed a diploma to his grandson.

Not long after Feliciano, all the graduates had been awarded their diplomas. They all stood together on stage, excited for what was to come. Rome and Germania could sense it, and they didn't make them wait. "The Class of 2012!"

Hundreds of hats flew into the air.

* * *

That night, when all the ceremonies were over and most of the graduates were at parties, Ludwig and Feliciano were back at their rented house on campus, packing it up. They didn't say much as their boxed up their belongings and folded their clothes into their suitcases. The day was bittersweet for them. Yes, they had graduated, and both were going to fantastic universities in the coming school year, but they would be apart. Ludwig's university was in Berlin, and Feliciano's was in Rome. They had never discussed what they would do with their relationship after high school. Hetalia Academy was the reason they had met, the reason they could be together.

Now they were going home...to the unknown.

Suddenly, Ludwig spoke up, surprising the Italian. "I don't want to pack up the sheets and blankets yet."

Feliciano blinked. "What?" he asked. "Why?"

The German turned to him and smiled softly. "I was thinking we could sleep here tonight. You know, one last time and all."

The answer made Feliciano's face light up. "Yes!" he eagerly agreed, throwing his pants off as he dove into the bed. "Yes, yes! Thank you, Lud! I wanted to sleep here tonight so badly, ve. I was hoping you would, too!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes, amused, and took his shirt off, tossing it on the floor carelessly, very unlike him. Feliciano squealed and wrapped his arms around him as he climbed into the bed and covered the two of them with the sheets. Ludwig's smile never faded. The two snuggled into the mattress, getting comfortable and keeping their eyes on one another. Tears started to form in the corners of Feliciano's eyes, despite his happy smile.

It worried Ludwig a bit. "What's wrong?"

The Italian shook his head. "It's nothing," he insisted. "I was just thinking, ve. I'm a little sad to be leaving the academy. I've had a lot of good times here."

Ludwig nodded. "Yeah, me, too. We've had good times together."

"...I almost don't want to go to that university."

Now Ludwig understood. "It is a little bittersweet, isn't it?" he sighed. "But you're going to a great art university. You'll love it."

"And you're going to one of the best universities in all of Germany back in Berlin!" Feliciano smiled again. "You didn't need that silly company. The university you're going to is even better than the one they were going to send you to! See? I knew you were better than that, ve." He rested his head against Ludwig's chest and sighed. "I'm going to miss you so much, but I'll call you every day."

Ludwig nodded and kissed Feliciano's forehead. "I'll miss you, too. I'll e-mail you every morning and visit you whenever I can."

This made Feliciano's smile widen a bit. "Thank you," he whispered lovingly.

The two laid there in silence for a few minutes before the Italian spoke again, this time sounding more serious. "I was also thinking about after university, ve," he confessed. "What do we do then? I...I want..."

Ludwig smiled and took Feliciano's hand in his. "I know," he murmured, kissing it. "I was thinking about that, too."

"...I'll move to Germany."

Ludwig froze and stared at his lover. "What?" he gasped. "No, oh, my God, Feliciano, no, I couldn't ask you to do that."

Feliciano smiled. "You didn't have to, ve. I decided on it myself. I'll learn German in the next four years, and after I graduate from the university in Rome, I'll move to Germany. We can get married and live in Berlin. I can be an artist anywhere, but you'll have to work there. Besides, there are lots of artists in Berlin, right?"

"Well, yes," Ludwig confirmed, "but their art is nothing like what you like."

The Italian shrugged. "Maybe I can change a few things then," he suggested as he snuggled back into Ludwig's embrace. "It's okay, don't worry about me. I just want to live with you, wherever we go. And..." He trailed off, a little embarrassed, and smiled sheepishly. "And...Ludwig, I want a family. I want children...somehow. A surrogate, adoption, I don't care. I just..." He looked up at his lover, a wanting look in his eyes. "Ve, is that okay with you?"

Ludwig hugged Feliciano close. "You can have anything you want," he replied. "You've offered to do so much for me. The least I can do is give you what you want in return. If you want children, we'll have children. As many as you want. I'm sure that any children of yours would be adorable...beautiful..."

Tears slipped out of Feliciano's eyes. He buried his face in his boyfriend's chest and let out a quiet, happy sob. "Thank you." He relaxed as Ludwig rubbed the back of his head. "I've always wanted children so badly. I was scared I wouldn't get to have them, ve..."

"So this is our plan, right?" Ludwig asked, kissing Feliciano's forehead again. "After we graduate from our universities, we'll have our union, live together in Berlin, and raise a family there. Perfect. You know, my brother and Katy are doing that, too."

Feliciano looked up at him and dried his eyes. "Really?"

Ludwig nodded. "Katy's been working on the family farm in Ukraine, but she's going to move to Berlin as soon as Gilbert graduates. He's already got a steady job, thanks to his academic advisor. Frederick, I think his name is. He helped him secure a job after his graduation."

"Ve, that's amazing!" the Italian gasped. "He sounds like an awesome guy!"

"That's how Gilbert describes him."

Feliciano grinned. "Then he _must_ be awesome. Anyway, I'm happy for Gilbert and Katy! We'll have some family close by. And we can vacation in Italy to see Grandpa and Lovi...We can see Grandpa whenever we want! I can introduce you to my cousin in Seborga, too!"

"I like that." Ludwig kissed Feliciano's pink lips softly and smiled. "...I'm really happy right now."

"Ve, me, too..." Yawn.

"Sleep, Feli. Good night."

"Good night, Ludwig, I love you..."

"I love you, too."

Ludwig waited before falling asleep himself. He watched Feliciano's eyes close and felt a sense of peace wash over him. He had a plan for his future with the man he loved, the kind of plan he could easily work with. The ideas were concrete, but he and Feliciano had plenty of time to figure out the details.

A tiny spark of fear still existed in the back of his mind though. The plan sounded so perfect, but he wondered what would happen if something went awry. Maybe Feliciano wouldn't want to move to Germany after university. Maybe he and Feliciano would break up for good, because of the distance between them. Maybe he wouldn't be able to find work, and maybe he wouldn't be able to take care of Feliciano and their family. Maybe...!

He stopped.

Then he brought Feliciano closer. "No point in freaking out about it now," he whispered to himself. "What will happen will happen. The only thing I can do...is try my best." He nodded slightly, satisfied with himself and his answer. He shoved the fear away, knowing it would never go away entirely. That would be something he would just have to face, but he knew that everyone faced fear every single day. He smiled and looked down at his boyfriend. "I can handle anything as long as you're here..."

By this point, Feliciano was dead asleep, snoring softly. He was a heavy sleeper, so there was no waking him up. Quietly, Ludwig reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a small box. He opened it to reveal a simple, small ring inside. He smiled at it and placed it on Feliciano's finger.

"We were born to be together."

He kissed it.

"Forever."

END


	20. BONUS: Judas Remix

**Author's Note: **Gakuen Hetalia.

Few things first though. First of all, to all my fellow East Coast people, I hope that bitch Irene spared you. My house wasn't flooded, thank goodness, but I know a lot of people who did get flooded, some of whom had to evacuate. I lost power for a little while, but the town managed to get it back up and running relatively quickly. I've never been so happy to see a blinking digital clock I didn't know how to fix in my life. ;_; So hang in there, East Coast! I love you!

Luckily, the MTV Video Music Awards always get rerun, so I got to watch the show despite the blackout. Lady Gaga won Best Female Video and Best Video with a Message, both with the "Born This Way" video. CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU, MAMA MONSTER, ON YOUR VICTORIES! "Born This Way" can now join "Poker Face," "Paparazzi," "Bad Romance," and "Telephone" in the VMA Winners List. So that means that Joan can join Russia, Belarus, Poland, Japan, and Greece. ;) Oh wait, Gaga couldn't make it, right? Jo went in her place. Well, he was pretty awesome, too. He did a fantastic job performing "You and I." Of course, I could only picture Prussia screaming and throwing beer around on stage, but you guys know he totally would if he were to perform.

Also, I gotta give some love to all the other artists who performed/were nominated/won, especially all the kickass ladies. Much love to Katy Perry, Adele, Nicki Minaj, Britney Spears, and especially Beyonce. Sending some love to the late Amy Winehouse, too. All incredible artists.

Otherwise, PLEEEEEEEASE keep sending me your reviews. We're almost done! After this, there are only five tracks left. Remember you guys are my motivation! Thank you!

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Judas (DJ White Shadow Remix)**

_"...Mama and Papa are dead, Feli,"_

_Little Feliciano stared up at his grandfather with huge, innocent, watery eyes. He didn't understand why the old man wasn't looking back at him. Instead, Rome's eyes were shut tight, and he had turned his head to the side. It was as if he didn't want to face his young grandson's reaction to the news. Feliciano was only three years old, so Rome figured he wouldn't understand, but he still looked away. It was almost as if he didn't want to face the truth himself._

_Feliciano's scared voice forced him to look back. "What does that mean, Grandpa?"_

_Rome swallowed hard and bent down in front of the young boy, finally opening his eyes. They were different...sad. They scared Feliciano, especially when his grandfather spoke._

_"It means that they've gone someplace very far away and can never come back." He rubbed his eyes, hoping to avoid spilling any tears. He didn't want to upset his grandson anymore than he had to. "But they're waiting there for you. You'll see them again someday."_

_Feliciano started to cry. "Why did Mama and Papa leave me? Don't they l-love me?"_

_The sight broke Rome's heart. He picked up the little boy and hugged him tightly, finally allowing a few tears to fall from his own eyes. Feliciano had lost his mother, and Rome had lost his daughter, his only daughter, his only child. Feliciano had also lost his father, Rome's son-in-law. They weren't like usual in-laws, constantly bickering and not-so-secretly hating each other. No, they had actually gotten along fabulously, always enjoying each other's company. Feliciano still had an uncle, his father's younger brother, but he lived in Seborga with his wife and had never really spent time with the rest of the family. Rome didn't like that, as it was very un-Italian._

_It suddenly struck Rome that he was Feliciano's new guardian. Feliciano's and Lovino's. How long had it been since he had taken care of children as their primary caregiver? Not since his own daughter was little. Now, in an instant, Rome had two children, two little boys to raise on his own, as his own wife had died years earlier, before Feliciano had even been born, when Lovino had been a toddler._

_Terrifying. That was all Rome could think. Of course, he loved his grandchildren with all his heart, and he, like any good guardian, would do anything for them, but the thought of being their primary caregiver, all on his own...it scared him to death. Two young children, one old man who suddenly had to go back to work and care for them, and an uncertain future._

_Rome choked on a sob. "They love you very much," he managed to whisper. "They just...life isn't fair sometimes, Feli..."_

_The little boy just cried harder._

* * *

_The next day, while looking over his daughter's will, Rome heard a strange rumbling sound. He looked up from the table, catching Feliciano's attention. The child put down his stuffed toys and followed his grandfather outside to the front lawn. From there, the two could see a large group of people riding motorcycles coming down the street._

_Feliciano stared. He had never seen motorcycles before, not like these anyway. They were so big and shiny! Nothing like the scooters and mopeds people rode around Rome. Different. Scary but also fascinating._

_Something else caught Feliciano's eye. He looked at one of the motorcycles carrying a small child, probably no older than he was. The little boy with blond hair and blue eyes was strapped into his own seat connected to the bike as the group raced down the street. For some reason, Feliciano couldn't tear his eyes away from him. He didn't notice the other child with red eyes watching the two of them from another bike._

_"...Go inside with your brother, Feliciano."_

_"Grandpa?"_

_Rome looked down at the little boy. "Come on, Feli, inside," he repeated, picking him up. But he didn't go back into the house. Feliciano clung to his grandfather and kept staring at the boy on the bike, keeping his eyes on him until the motorcycles were out of sight._

_Something drew him towards that boy. He couldn't explain it. Of course he couldn't, he was only three. However, even Rome could tell that something had just happened to his grandson, something even he could not explain._

_He forced the thought out of his mind and brought Feliciano back into the house._

* * *

_The funerals were held the next day. Family and friends from all over Italy attended, filling the funeral home to the brim. They all constantly cried and prayed for their lost loved ones the whole time. It was overwhelming, especially for the young boys. Lovino had his arms crossed throughout the day, constantly looking away and refusing to cry. His cheeks puffed out, and his eyes swam with unshed tears. His whole face was red, but Rome didn't say a thing, knowing he would just upset his oldest grandson further. He held onto Feliciano and tried to quiet his sobs. There was nothing more heartbreaking to the crowd at that moment than the little boy crying for his parents whom he would never see again._

_When the sad event was finally over, Rome packed his grandsons into his car and started driving home when a thought struck him. "Feli, Lovi," he said, "it's a really beautiful day outside. Do you want to play at the park for a while?"_

_Ironically, it really was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, hardly any clouds littered the sky, and the humidity was low. It was the kind of day children dreamed about for playdates and trips to the park._

_"Take me to the park!" Lovino shouted, huffing stubbornly. "Do it! And push me on the swings!"_

_For once, Rome was happy to oblige. Normally, he ignored Lovino's ridiculous, selfish demands, but he was just as desperate to get outside and temporarily forget about the situation as his boys were. Smiling, he turned a corner and parked near the playground._

_As soon as he was out of the car, Lovino immediately ran for his beloved swings. Rome followed him, still wearing a smile as Feliciano followed behind. Rome stopped for a second and looked down at his grandson. "Do you want me to push you on the swings, too, Feli?"_

_Feliciano shook his head and pointed in the opposite direction. "Sandbox."_

_Rome nodded. "Okay, just stay where I can see you."_

_Feliciano nodded back and toddled over to the empty sandbox. He sat down on the edge and put his feet in the sand, unable to feel the tiny grains on his skin due to his black shoes. He frowned and went to pick up a bucket lying near him when he saw another hand reach out for it. Looking up, brown eyes locked with blue._

_"Wah!" he cried. "You're the boy I saw yesterday!"_

_The little blond cocked his head. _"Was?"

_Now it was Feliciano's turn to cock his head. "Huh?" he wondered out loud. "That wasn't Italian, was it?"_

"Sprichst du Deutsch?"

_Feliciano didn't know what to say. The words sounded so unfamiliar, so unlike the words he was used to speaking and hearing. Italian flowed beautifully and had many syllables to pronounce. These words were harsh-sounding and had no flow to them whatsoever. It wasn't necessarily bad to Feliciano, just different. What language was this little boy speaking?_

_But then Feliciano heard the boy say something he definitely understood. "...Pasta?"_

_"Pasta!" he squealed. If the boy knew what pasta was, then he had to be a good guy! Feliciano decided that he liked him, as that one word he had spoken had made him happy, and he needed to be happy on this sad day. "I'm Feliciano." Smiling, he passed the toy bucket to boy. "For you," he said. "I'll put the sand in, and we can make a castle!"_

_To make his point clear, Feliciano put a lot of sand into the bucket and then flipped it over into the sandbox. He pointed to the mini castle and smiled, as his new friend seemed to understand._

_They lost track of time as they put the sand castle together. Neither one had to say a thing. It's not like they would have understood each other anyway. Feliciano was just happy to be spending time with someone his age who wasn't sad. He almost forgot about how he had lost his parents._

_The castle was close to completion when Feliciano felt a little hand tug on his shoulder. He looked up, surprised. "Lovi? What's wrong?"_

_"You can't play with this kid!" the older brother snapped, frowning. "You can't. He's stupid! And he's not Italian!"_

_"Aw, Lovi..."_

_"Look at him, stupid!"_

_"Lovi!" Rome shouted and he grabbed the boy around the waist. He struggled to hang on when the boy started squirming and screaming. "Lovi, that was very mean. You know better! Feli can play with anyone he wants. You should be happy he has a new friend! Now apologize!"_

_Lovino kept screaming and soon started to cry. Rome sighed, annoyed, and headed towards the car. "Feli, stay right here, okay?" he said. "We have to go home, I'm sorry. Lovi is in trouble."_

_Feliciano nodded obediently yet sadly. "Okay," he agreed, looking back at his new friend. "That's my big brother Lovi. He gets in trouble a lot."_

"Bruder?"

_Feliciano nodded, assuming his new friend had said "brother."_

_The little boy smiled. _"Bruder!" _he said excitedly, pointing to an older boy with silver hair and red eyes, who was sitting on a bench, watching the two of them._

_Feliciano looked up and smiled. "Hello!" he called, waving. His smile widened when the older boy waved back._

_That was when Rome returned. "Ready to go, Feli? Say 'bye-bye' to your friend, okay?"_

_Feliciano's smile disappeared. He turned to the little blond boy and sadly waved to him. "Bye-bye," he said quietly. He blew a kiss to his friend, who returned it with an actual kiss on his cheek. Rome waved to the little boy, unfazed by the kiss, just before turning and bringing Feliciano back towards the car._

_But the blond child would have none of that. _"Nein! Nein!" _he shouted. _"Burg! Burg!" _He pointed to the sand castle, hoping the people he couldn't understand would understand him. Tears started forming in his eyes, and he went to run after Rome, but his older brother stopped him, shaking his head._

_That didn't sit well with the boy. He yanked his arm away from his albino brother and started to run after Rome, ignoring his brother's protests. Without looking where he was, he ran into the parking lot._

_Everything that followed happened so quickly that Rome didn't know what to think. He had just strapped Feliciano into his car seat and taken his own seat behind the wheel when he heard screeching tires and a scream. He heard a loud "thunk!" come from behind him, but he hadn't even started the car yet, so there was no way he had done anything. The shock of it all was so bad though that Lovino even stopped screaming. For a very long moment, the car and everything surrounding it were silent._

_And then, without thinking, Rome started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, not caring about what he had just heard or what could have possibly happened. Was the child dead? No, there was no way! But Feliciano was suddenly screaming, demanding to know what was going on, so he couldn't stay silent. He scrambled for an answer and blurted out the first thing that came to mind._

_"You're never going to see that boy again!"_

_It was the wrong thing to say._

_It felt like someone had plunged a knife into Rome's heart when he heard Feliciano's sobs of how his new friend was dead. He didn't know that for a fact. It was possible that the kid was still alive, that he hadn't even been hurt! But it was too late to correct what he had said. He tried his best to ignore the wails, but the searing pain he felt in his heart was almost too much._

_From his rearview mirror, Rome could see the little boy lying in the parking lot. The person who had hit him emerged from his car, horrified at what he had done. Then the boy's albino brother appeared next to him, screaming for someone in a language Rome couldn't understand. An older man then ran to the scene, one who looked very much like the injured boy. Rome assumed it was the boys' grandfather._

_He saw nothing else. He raced home through Feliciano's cries, begging to escape all the tragedy surrounding his family._

* * *

_"Where am I?"_

_"A hospital in Italy. We were holding Mom and Dad's funerals here in Rome. They had always wanted to come here, remember?"_

_"...Who are you?"_

_"I'm your brother, duh. Gilbert the Awesome."_

_"...I can't remember anything."_

_The little albino frowned. "Your name is Ludwig. I call you 'West,' because you were born in the western half of Berlin, our home. Sometimes you call me 'East,' since I was born in the eastern half of the city."_

_"Oh...where's Berlin?"_

_Gilbert closed his eyes. "Amnesia," he said to himself, nodding. "Yeah, that's it." The six-year-old dreaded telling his grandfather. First they had to deal with not one but two deaths in the family, now this. Mom and Dad were gone, and Ludwig couldn't remember anything, not his name, not his family, and now, not his mother and father, whom he would never see again._

_He opened his eyes again. "I'll just have to remember everything for the both of us then..."_

* * *

Feliciano opened his eyes, awakening from his siesta. He yawned quietly and rubbed his eyes, looking around his dorm room. His roommate was out, probably taking his own siesta in his girlfriend's room. That didn't bother Feliciano, as he had his own date that afternoon.

"...I can't believe Gilbert kept all that from me, ve," he whispered as he stretched his arms. "I remember when Mama and Papa died, but he knew everything else." He dropped his arms and looked up at the wall on his half of the room, which was covered in pictures and posters. A large Italian flag hung over his bed, next to a poster version of a painting of the canals in Venice. He smiled as his eyes traveled over to the other end of the wall, where he had taped his favorite photos of his family. There were several photos of his grandfather and even one of Rome and his wife on their wedding day. He also had several photos of his mother and father, some from when they were dating, one of their wedding day, one of them with Lovino after his birth, and one of the whole family together after Feliciano had been born. There were also a few photos of him and Lovino together, taken throughout the years as they had grown up.

But the photos on his nightstand were the most important. He looked back at it, and his smile widened, as he had laid eyes on the photos of him and Ludwig. One of the photos was of just Ludwig, looking as handsome as ever. Feliciano looked at it and then back at the family photos on his wall, specifically the wedding photos.

He touched the ring around his finger. "Ours will be there one day..."

That was when his cellphone rang. He answered it, already knowing who it was.

_"Ciao, il mio amore."_

_"Hallo, mein liebling."_

END


	21. BONUS: Marry the Night Remix

**Author's Note: **Gotta give a shout out to Troper Puppy, who created a page on TV Tropes for _The Hetalian Monster! _Go check it out! If you visit the site regularly, feel free to edit the page and discuss/review it.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Marry the Night (Zedd Remix)**

Prussia was completely silent as the train made its way towards Potsdam. Ukraine didn't bother trying to start a conversation, instead choosing to sit next to her boyfriend just as silently. That didn't stop her from looking over at him though. She tried to stay inconspicuous, as she didn't want her reflection to appear in the window, so only her eyes moved. She wore a sad frown whenever she glanced at Prussia though, as his facial expression said everything his words did not.

Ukraine almost felt guilty that they were on their way to Potsdam. Ever since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, now almost two decades ago, she had wanted to go. Specifically, she wanted to visit Sanssouci, the summer palace of Frederick the Great, Prussia's favorite king and first love. On that night after they had gotten back together, they had sworn to visit each other's countries, especially the capital cities. Ukraine had been to Berlin several times since then, but she had never been to the nearby Potsdam, and she hadn't said anything about it until recently.

_"You're coming back to Berlin?" Prussia asked over the phone one afternoon. "Awesome! What do you wanna do? Go see stuff around the city or just hang out with the awesome me? We'll do anything you want, baby."_

_Ukraine blushed at the nickname. Prussia had so many for her, and a few of them were rather embarrassing. Still, she smiled at the affection within the names._

_That smiled disappeared after a moment. "Um, there is something I really want to do."_

_"Just name it!" the albino insisted, grinning. "Like I said, we'll do anything you want."_

_"...I want to visit Sanssouci in Potsdam."_

_Silence._

_Prussia didn't speak for a full minute. Ukraine tried to imagine the expression on his face, thinking it was an odd mix of shock, disbelief, and pain. Her own heart hurt, imaging that expression. She really wanted to visit Sanssouci. She wanted to see Frederick's famous palace for its history, its beauty, and because she wanted to learn more about the man Prussia loved. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Prussia, but there was no taking the request back now. She waited quietly, hoping Prussia would soon respond._

_Eventually, he did. "Alright, I'll take you."_

_"Prussia..."_

_"It's alright, babe, I'll take you. When were you planning on getting here?"_

Ukraine glanced at Prussia again. This time, he spoke up. "Don't worry about it, love," he sighed, still staring out the window. "I told you that I would take you, and I don't go back on my word. Only un-awesome losers do that."

The words caught Ukraine off-guard. She jumped a bit in her seat and bit her lip. "I just don't want you to be sad," she replied quietly.

Prussia shook his head. "I'm not sad. It's about time I go visit the old man, too. I haven't in such a long time, mostly because I was still too crushed, un-awesome as it was. Actually, there's a lot of awesome history to be learned at the palace. It would make me happy if you knew it." He turned his head and smirked a bit. "Because my history is the most awesome history ever."

Ukraine smiled back gently. "Of course."

They stayed quiet until the train arrived in Potsdam. There, they walked from the station to the palace. Ukraine was impressed before they even made it onto the palace grounds, as she could see it from the streets. It was small, compared to many of the castles across Europe, but that didn't take away from its beauty and grandeur. It was just as ornate as any castle, maybe even more.

"The old man liked to come here in the summer, as you know," Prussia suddenly said as they made their way up towards the palace. "It was away from all the crap going on in the capital, so Fritz didn't have to think about a damn thing. That's what the palace name means. 'Sanssouci.' 'Without Worry'."

Ukraine shook her head. "I didn't know that."

"It's French. Fritz always liked French more than German."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he liked France's country way more than he liked mine." The albino frowned at his words. "He liked French culture, art, music, food, the whole thing. He didn't like speaking German either. He thought it wasn't as beautiful as French, and I guess he was right. When you think of a beautiful language, you don't really think of German." He looked to the side and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fritz didn't even like reading in German. He always complained that the sentences ran on forever and that he could never understand what a sentence was talking about until the end, because that's where the verbs are. In fact, if you were to look at the books in his library here, you'd see than none of them were in German."

"...Oh."

Ukraine couldn't help but feel sad as she listened to Prussia explain his king's preference of French over German. Prussia sounded...hurt. She could understand why. Prussia had been hopelessly in love with Frederick and still was in a way. To know that Frederick did not like Prussia's language or culture must have hurt the proud nation. After all, even though she and Prussia were nations, they still had very human emotions. They still felt happiness, sadness, anger, love, jealousy, and every other emotion that a human could feel.

But did that make them more human, she wondered as they walked into the palace's front entrance. She knew that Prussia and Frederick had been lovers, but she wondered on what level they had loved each other. Had they pretended that the both of them were human? That made sense to her. As a king, Frederick had, of course, loved his nation, but he had probably loved him more as a human. He probably hadn't loved the cultural side of Prussia, just Prussia as a nation and Gilbert as a human. If that was true, then she understood why Prussia looked so sad while talking about his king's likes and dislikes. She started to wonder how she would feel if she knew that her boss didn't like her language or culture. (Her _current_ boss anyway. She rather liked him.) While she was not and had never been in love with any of her bosses, nor had she ever broken Rule 3, to know that the person who was supposed to be running her country disliked that side of her...that thought alone hurt.

She snapped back to reality when she and Prussia found themselves in the Entrance Hall. She gasped quietly and her mouth hung open a little bit, her eyes wide with awe.

Prussia took notice of her expression and smirked. "Pretty damn awesome, right?" he snickered. "And we're not even at the most decorated part of the place yet. This is subtle for the old man's taste." He left Ukraine for a moment to pay for the entrance tickets, which she noticed, confused.

"Why do you have to pay to get in?" she asked when her boyfriend returned.

Prussia shrugged. "The people here don't know who I am," he explained, passing a ticket to Ukraine. "Plus, all the money made here goes towards keeping the palace in good shape. I want it standing and looking awesome as long as possible. Sorta keeps the old man alive, ya know?"

Ukraine smiled. "I see."

"Because stupid tourists need to learn about how awesome he was."

"I agree."

From the Entrance Hall, they moved to the Marble Hall, which was completely decked out, from top to bottom, in marble and gold. Ukraine choked on her own breath when she saw it. The Entrance Hall paled in comparison. With its columns, detailed sculptures, and ornate gold pieces, it was truly a sight to behold. She let her eyes drink it all in, now understanding why Prussia had said that the Entrance Hall wasn't a true reflection of Frederick's taste. This didn't look like the interior of a palace in Germany; it looked like the interior of one of France's castles.

Ukraine turned to Prussia with a soft smile. "This is amazing."

"Yeah, I know." The albino crossed his arms and grinned smugly, as if he personally owned the castle. "We hardly ever met here though, only on special occasions."

They spent a few more minutes in the hall, admiring the architecture and the decorations. At one point, Prussia asked Ukraine if she wanted to take any photos. "You need a separate pass if you do," he explained.

Ukraine shook her head. "If I don't take any pictures, it gives me an excuse to come back."

Prussia smiled.

Soon, they moved to the Apartments connected to the Marble Hall. "These rooms are small," Prussia explained as they entered the first one, the Audience Chamber. "Look, this one only has one window." He pointed to it. "The old man used to invite scholars and officers in here for lunch. Oh, my God, those lunches would last for _hours..._"

Ukraine couldn't help but smile at the annoyance in Prussia voice. "I'm guessing you didn't like them?"

"Pfft, hell no. The food was awesome and stuff - Fritz always went through the menus himself the night before - but the conversation was boring as shit. Philosophy and politics and all that crap. Crap I hate. Plus, no one spoke German. We would all have to speak _French_." He frowned and looked up at the walls. "By the way, all the paintings in here are the originals."

The bitter tone in Prussia's voice made Ukraine frown. She could tell that Prussia had felt betrayed all those times when he wasn't allowed to speak his own language. She wondered if he and Frederick had spoken German when it was just the two of them or if the king had forced his nation to speak French even then.

She decided not to bring it up. "At least the room is beautiful."

"Yeah, I guess."

After inspecting the paintings on the wall and admiring each one individually, the couple moved on to the Music Room. Once they arrived, Prussia's face lit up again. "Kesesesesese, I love this room."

"Oh?"

"Fritz used to play his flute here all the time!"

Now Ukraine's face was bright. "I heard he was an extremely talented flautist!" she almost squealed, clapping her hands together. "He wrote lots of sonnets for the flute, right?"

Prussia nodded. "Over 120! There's even a famous painting based on his playing! It's called _The Flute Concert at Sanssouci_, and it's by Adolph von Menzel. His grave is in Berlin, so you can see that, too, if you want."

"Did he paint Frederick a lot?"

"Oh yeah, _lots_ of drawings and paintings. _Flute Concert _is the most famous one of the old man, but Fritz never got to see it. The painting was completed sixty-six years after her died."

"Oh..."

Now Ukraine felt horrible. In fact, this whole trip was going horribly! She didn't want to upset Prussia, but it seemed like every single little detail in the castle somehow reminded Prussia of the times he didn't like so much. First, Prussia had been reminded of the fact that his own king hated speaking his language, then she had managed to twist a normal conversation into a reminder of how Prussia's first love was dead. Not the best memory. Part of her wanted to end the trip now before she brought up anymore bad memories.

But it was obvious that Prussia would have none of that. Before she knew it, he had led her into the next room. He seemed somewhat forceful as he did, as if he was both anxious to be in there and yet did not want to be anywhere near it. Ukraine didn't dare say a word.

She could see Prussia swallow hard. "This is...the Bedchamber."

She suddenly felt like crying.

"Fritz did a lot of his official work in here," the albino explained, not looking at his girlfriend. "It doubled as his Study. He slept over there, where it was warm." He pointed to the tiled stove in the corner. His gaze lingered a bit on the bed itself, face suddenly wistful, as if he was reflecting on a particular moment in time. Ukraine didn't need to ask to know what that memory was.

"And that," Prussia turned and pointed to a chair sitting innocently in another corner. "was where Fritz died."

Ukraine rubbed her eyes quickly, hoping Prussia wouldn't notice that they had begin to water. Prussia humored her and pretended he hadn't.

"I remember the moment perfectly," he murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It was the middle of the night. A servant called me into the room, and I saw the old man lying in that exact armchair. I ran to his side and grabbed his hand, kneeling down next to him. His hand was already cold, but he still had a little bit of life in him. He looked down at me and smiled. He asked me why I was crying, and I told him that awesome people don't cry. Then he laughed a bit and told me that he hoped I would never change. I swore I wouldn't. Then he asked me to stand up and kiss him. I told him that I loved him and did. I didn't care that his doctor and valets and servant were watching us. When I pulled away, his eyes were closed. He smiled, told me that he loved me, squeezed my hand with the last of his strength, and died at 2:20 AM on August 17, 1786."

Ukraine immediately took a hold of Prussia's hand and squeezed it. Prussia turned and gasped at the tears running down his girlfriend's face. "Oh, babe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. That wasn't awesome of me. Oh man, I don't have any tissues..."

"No, it's okay, I have some." Ukraine fished the portable packet out of her pocket and dried her eyes. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing." She dried the new tears that fell. "That was just...so _sad. _It sounded like something out of a movie."

Prussia managed a smile. "Kinda, doesn't it? Only the best, most awesome movie, of course." He wrapped his arms around Ukraine in a hug. "It's okay, baby, really. It's sad, yeah, but it had to happen. I was the stupid one. I fell in love with a human. I got what I deserved for breaking Rule 3." He kissed her forehead. "But that's why I have the awesome you now. You're not a human; you're a nation like me, so it's all good."

Ukraine nodded into Prussia's chest and looked up above the armchair. "Is that him?"

Prussia looked up at the painting hanging there and nodded. "Yeah, that's a scene of his death. This room sorta turned into a tribute after Fritz died. That's why there are paintings of him as the Crown Prince along with portraits of his parents. Trust me, if the old man had his way, his old man would have _never_ appeared in here."

That made Ukraine laugh slightly through the tears. "Not a fan of his father, was he?" She smiled when Prussia shook his head quickly.

"We had the same taste. I didn't like him much either. I mean, it was awesome that he loved to fight and wage war and stuff, but he was a total dick as far as personality goes. I once got Fritz to say that when he was a teenager, by the way, those exact words. That was a rich moment."

Ukraine laughed again and wiped her eyes one last time before they moved on to the Library. However, Prussia didn't enter it right away. He stood in the entrance for a few moments and sighed heavily. "I don't like that this room is part of the usual tour."

"Really?"

Prussia shook his head. "No, Fritz hardly allowed _anyone_ in here, and by 'anyone,' I mean that I was included."

Ukraine gasped. "What?"

The albino shrugged. "Fritz loved his library more than anything. He owned seven in all, with about seven thousand books." He rolled his eyes. "None of them were in German, like I said earlier. Here, there are about two thousand." He suddenly looked to the side when he saw a few tourists enter the room and look around. His frown deepened.

Ukraine shuffled awkwardly in her spot. "We don't have to go in if you don't want to." Somewhere in the back of her mind, she found it incredible that Prussia had no problem with tourists entering the Bedchamber but did not like them entering the Library. After all, he and Frederick had first made love in the Bedchamber, and the king had _died_ there. "The Library must have been the place he loved most."

"Oh yeah." Prussia nodded. "The old man spent all of his free time here, reading books by his favorite philosophers and scholars and...yeah. I didn't like them either. Still don't like them. Especially that jerk..."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. The bottom line is that it was considered a great honor to be invited into the Library, and I wasn't invited in until after...Dammit!" Prussia looked away from the room. "You go on in, sweetheart, I'll wait for you." He gently pushed her into the room and turned away, choosing to stay in the Bedchamber. Ukraine watched him sadly for a moment and then turned to the bookshelves to inspect the volumes.

The rest of the tour was uneventful. Prussia took Ukraine to the guest rooms and explained who usually stayed there. The palace was used even after Frederick had died, by the Prussian royalty of the 19th century. Ukraine, of course, found the rest of the palace absolutely beautiful, but she still kept her eyes on her boyfriend. He seemed okay after she had left the library, probably because none of the other rooms held such precious memories.

When they were done inside, Prussia took Ukraine outside, to the gardens. Hand in hand, they walked to the side of the palace to a little plot of grass with a large stone slab in the center. Prussia looked back to Ukraine, smiling as they made their way over. Ukraine abandoned Prussia's hand for his arm, looping her arms around it and resting her head on his shoulder as soon as they stopped. She looked down at the slab and frowned.

"And this," Prussia said, "is where the old man is buried."

Ukraine nodded. "It's the perfect grave for him. It's simple but the writing on it is beautiful."

Prussia sighed. "I feel bad now. I haven't been here in such a long time. This palace was turned into a tourist attraction after the war, here in East Germany. But Fritz wasn't here all the time."

"Really?"

"His body was moved around a lot between the time he died and the time West and I were reunited. He had always wanted to be buried next to the palace, but he didn't get his wish until 1990."

"So long..."

Prussia nodded and smiled. "But it's okay. In 1990, the palace became a World Heritage Site. In 1995, the Foundation for Prussian Palaces and Gardens was established to take case of the place." His smile turned into a cocky grin. "That's because palaces from my history are too awesome to ignore. The world would suck without them."

Ukraine smiled up at him. "I'm really glad Sanssouci is still here. I love this place."

"Of course you do! Because it's from my history!" Prussia laughed a bit and rested his head on top of Ukraine's. "Plus, the Foundation protecting this place...it makes me feel...alive. Like I, like that old identity is still alive. Like I'm still..._Königreich Preußen._"

The two were quiet for a long moment.

"You still are to me."

"...I love you."

And they kissed.

* * *

On the train ride home, Ukraine slept, leaning her head against Prussia's shoulder. Prussia had his arm wrapped around her, hugging her close to his body. He felt better, quite a bit better. He had been dreading this trip, to be completely honest. He had not wanted to go to Sanssouci, and now he was feeling a bit ashamed. He hated to admit that his heart still hurt every time he thought about Frederick. His heart hurt even more whenever he thought about Frederick's death, and it hurt the worst whenever he thought about all the people, all the things, all the _distractions _that would hold his king's precious attention. Prussia scowled. He had been alive for thousands of years, but he was still a child. He still wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. When he had been alive, all he had wanted was all of his king's attention, _all of it._ He really hadn't hated Voltaire so much. "Hate" was the wrong word. Voltaire had been fine as a person, but he had also captured his king's attention so many times. And Prussia had to admit that he had been angry at him at one point. After all, Frederick had invited Voltaire into his Sanssouci library before he had invited his own nation.

But all of those negative thoughts disappeared whenever he look at the angel sleeping next to him. Prussia gently kissed the top of Ukraine's head and breathed in the sweet scent of her fine hair.

"You saved me," he whispered. "You pulled me away from the edge when I was ready to jump to my death." He kissed her head again. "You'll never replace Fritz, but you're just as awesome, and I love you just as much."

At that moment, his cellphone rang. Prussia answered it quickly so that the noise wouldn't wake Ukraine. "Hello?"

"Hello!"

"Heh, hey, France, what's up?"

"Hmm? Why are you whispering?"

"I'm on the train with Ukraine coming back from Potsdam. She's sleeping."

"Oh! Excuse me, I didn't know you were out on a date. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out tonight." He laughed a bit. "I almost got in the way of _amour._ How awful of me!"

Prussia snickered quietly. "It's okay, man, thanks. I'll go out with you and Spain some other time, okay? Ukraine is gonna be here for a few more days. We visited Sanssouci today."

France went quiet for a moment. "You were okay with that?"

Prussia nodded even though he knew France couldn't see him. "I wasn't before. I am now. I don't think I'll ever get over Fritz, but..."

"I understand."

Prussia stopped short. "What? What are you talking about? Why do you...?"

"You are not the only one who has broken Rule 3."

Prussia gasped loudly, forgetting that Ukraine was still asleep next to him. "France..."

On the other end, France smiled. "At least you can visit your first love any time you want. Mine, well, nothing remains of her now. And now you have another love in your life. I am happy for you, my friend..."

"France! Was it...!"

But the line had gone dead.

Ukraine stirred and blinked her eyes open. "Hmm? Prussia...?"

The albino hung up his phone and managed a smile for his girlfriend. "Nothing, baby. We'll be home soon."

* * *

That night, sleeping in Prussia's bed next to him, Ukraine dreamed. She found herself sitting in a void on nothing, yet she was stable. Confused, she look to her side and stared at an unfamiliar face.

"Hello!"

"EEP!" Ukraine almost screamed and jumped back, falling out of her seat onto a solid block of the void. When she looked up, the unfamiliar person was still looking at her, smiling happily. "What the...?"

"Frederick, my dear, nice to meet you." He held out his hand and helped Ukraine stand and then pat the seat next to him. "Please, take a seat. I'd like to talk with you."

"Wait a second," Ukraine gasped as she sat back down. "You said your name is Frederick? As in...?"

The man nodded. "Indeed! Frederick II, King of Prussia. And you're Ukraine, right? It's a pleasure." He took her hand again and kissed it. "I just wanted to come by and meet you personally. My dear nation can be quite a handful, so I also wanted to thank you for loving him. He needs companionship and for people to need him. He's a hot mess without those things, as much as he denies it."

Ukraine was still confused, but she decided to go along with the conversation. "I love him very much," she replied quietly. "We've been through so much together, both living under my brother's Soviet rule for so long. We took care of each other while we were living there. I wanted to take care of him because...because I knew his life was much more important than he thought it was."

Frederick nodded. "And I thank you for seeing that, too. I do not want to think of what would have happened to my dear nation if you were not there." He smiled kindly at her. "I am also very happy that you like my old summer palace. You know, I originally wanted it destroyed after I died, but I'm actually glad it still stands today. If it makes Prussia happy, then I'm happy. Plus, I finally got to be buried next to it. Now I really can rest in peace."

Ukraine smiled back. "It's beautiful. I'm glad it's still there, too. And now Prussia and I can visit you whenever we want." Her smile then disappeared, and she glanced away shamefully.

Frederick noticed this. "Hmm?"

"Um...this is not okay for me to bring up, I know," the Ukrainian murmured. "But...I just have to tell you this. Prussia...still feels betrayed by some of the things you did."

"...I know."

Ukraine's head shot up. "You know?"

The dead man nodded. "He's such a child sometimes, but, knowing him, I can understand. We always clashed on interests and preferences. I enjoy art and philosophy, and he enjoys war and, in his words, 'being awesome.' And I _know_ he was jealous of Voltaire. I know he still is, even though I've told him time and time again that there's no need for any of that. Voltaire was an honored guest, so I _had _to invite him into my library. But he didn't have my heart the way Prussia did. My heart always belonged to Prussia, and it still does. By the way, next time you're in Sanssouci, get him to go into the library, would you? Even if you have to force him. Seriously. He should be over that by now."

Ukraine frowned. "But..."

"But what?"

"But what about speaking French instead of German? That really hurt Prussia..."

Frederick sighed. "I spoke German whenever the two of us were alone. I didn't like it, but I did it anyway, because I knew he liked it. Whenever we were in the company of someone else, however, we spoke French. Prussia is just a stubborn child who wants everything to go his way, so he always became angry whenever I expressed any interest in anything that wasn't Prussian. I was not the first person to admire certain things about another country either. Prussia...oh, my dear Prussia just has a superiority complex..."

Despite the explanation, Ukraine smiled. "That sounds exactly like him."

"Ah, yes, he hasn't changed, just as I had hoped." Frederick smiled back. "I spoke my last words to him in German, by the way. Funny thing about love. Traits that one would normally find annoying or unattractive suddenly become the things one loves the most." He sighed heavily. "And now I hope you love all those little things."

"I do."

"Good. I feel at peace, knowing that you're taking care of my dear nation." He smiled and took Ukraine's hand again. "Thank you, my dear. You're going to wake up soon. It's been wonderful talking with you. I hope you don't mind me watching over you along with my dear Prussia."

Ukraine shook her head and smiled back. "Not at all. Thank you."

"I'm very happy that my nation fell in love with someone like you. Please tell him that I love him, and please remind him that I'm watching over him.

_"I can finally rest peacefully..."_

* * *

Ukraine woke up to see Prussia gazing lovingly at her. "Good morning," he greeted. "Did you have good dreams?"

The woman smiled. "Yeah...I did."

Watching them from afar, Frederick smiled warmly, feeling his heart, which had not made a beat in hundreds of years, glow with love. It almost felt like it was beating again, but he didn't need that in order to feel alive. Prussia was happy. That was the only thing he needed. As long as Prussia was happy, he was happy. As long as he could watch over Prussia, he was content. As long as Prussia stayed with Ukraine, he was satisfied.

"Because the spirit of Prussia will never die."

END


	22. BONUS: Scheiße Remix

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Scheiße (DJ White Shadow Mugler)**

"Austriaaaaaaaaaaaa! I'm back!" Hungary called as she entered the aristocrat's home in Vienna, carrying a small bag of groceries in her left arm. She closed the front door behind her and walked to the kitchen to drop the food off. She still hadn't received a response though, so she was confused. "Austria!" she tried again. "Where are you? I got the dinner ingredients! Did you get the baking supplies for dessert tonight?"

Still no response. "Oh Lord," the Hungarian woman groaned, "don't tell me he got lost in his basement again..."

Sighing, she checked the basement, but the Austrian was nowhere to be seen. She headed back to the main level and then took the stairs to the upper level. When she turned the first corner, she saw a ladder leading up to the attic in the middle of the hallway. Sure enough, she heard shuffling coming from the top floor.

Austria turned when he heard someone climbing the ladder. He smiled at Hungary. "You're back."

"Yeah, I've been calling out for you," the woman replied as she crouched down to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry," Austria replied quickly. "I did get the baking groceries, if you're wondering. I already put them away." He pointed to a set of boxes sitting on the floor next to him. "I came up here looking for an old recipe book and got distracted."

"By what?" Hungary sat down next to her ex-husband and opened one of the boxes, revealing piles of old letters and official documents. Her face immediately lit up. "Ooooo, things leftover from our history!" She took a small pile of the letters out and looked them over. "Oh wow, these were written to Maria Theresa!"

Austria nodded. "Yeah, and some of those were written by her. Like this one." He held up a letter. "She wrote this one to Prussia's boss at the time but never sent it. By the time she was ready to send it, Prussia was already attacking, so she didn't bother. She decided to _show _dear Mr. Frederick how much she hated him." He smirked a bit and let out a small laugh, Hungary giggling a bit as she read the note over.

"Oh, my God, she seriously had one hell of a vocabulary." She set the letter down and picked up another one, this one written to Maria Theresa. Hungary immediately frowned. "What a troll that guy was..."

"Who?" Austria asked back, opening another box. "Prussia's boss?"

Hungary nodded. "This is a letter he wrote to Maria Theresa. Ugh, I don't know why Prussia wanted to screw him so badly."

The Austrian's face immediately lit up bright pink. "Please don't say such vulgar things," he muttered, fixing his glasses. "Besides, we have no proof that that he and his king ever slept together."

"Oh yes, we do!" Hungary snapped back, eyes wide. "I have written proof, proof I wrote myself!"

"What! How?"

"Remember that one time we came to Prussia's place for potential peace talks? And we ended up staying overnight?" Hungary's eyes began to sparkle, and a Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face. "Like I said, I don't know what Prussia saw in him, but I'm glad he saw something anyway. The camera had not been invented yet, but I've always prided myself on being quick with a pen and paper..."

Austria shook his head and rubbed his temples, partially out of embarrassment and partially out of disgust. Yes, he _did _remember that one time, and that would explain why he had heard the dainty pitter-patter of sneaky feet in the middle of the night headed towards the King's bedchambers. Now more than ever, he was thankful that he had ignored it. But that didn't stop his mind from running wild. "Can't unthink..."

"Yeah, kind of an awkward image," Hungary agreed, smiling softly now. "But, you know, I sorta feel bad for Prussia. Sure, he's got Ukraine now, which is great, but, once a nation has broken Rule 3, there really is nothing he or she can do." She frowned. "Sometimes I feel like I've broken it, too."

At this, Austria frowned, too. He turned to his ex-wife, genuinely concerned. "Why do you say that?" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if she had cheated on him while they had been married.

Hungary shrugged. "Rule 3 is so vague. It only states that a nation shall not develop feelings for a human. It never specifies what those feelings are. Prussia was in love with his king, yes, and those definitely count as feelings for a human. However, I, too, had feelings for a human." She paused. "I wasn't in love with her, but I had feelings for Maria Theresa."

Austria sighed, nodding. "Yes, I think I understand what you're saying. Love is not the only emotion we could feel for a human. You could argue that simply caring for a human, worrying for a human's safety, means that you have developed feelings for that human. If that's true, then we have _all _broken Rule 3. Every single one of us. I have never met a nation who doesn't fondly remember at least one human, even if he or she did or did not _love _that human. For England, it was Queen Elizabeth. For France, it was Joan of Arc. For Japan, it was the Meiji Emperor. For Prussia, it was Frederick the Great. For the both of us, that human was Maria Theresa." He paused and the two sat in silence for a moment. "And," he suddenly continued, "for all we know, every single nation could have been in love with a human at some point..."

Hungary bit her lip. "Austria..." She went to say something else but decided to drop the subject concerning him. She put a smile on. "I definitely cared for her. I miss her terribly. You know, she was the one who inspired me to become a feminist."

Austria seemed to snap out of his daze. "Really?" Now he was interested.

The Hungarian nodded. "She was a strong woman who didn't take crap from anyone. She didn't let Frederick push her around, despite how often we lost to Prussia. And I got my first frying pan from her!" Now she was grinning ear-to-ear again. "Remember that time she smacked Frederick with it for disrespecting her? That moment made me realize that the two of us as women have to fight for our rights and respect. And now I want to inspire other women to fight for what they deserve."

Austria smiled back and nodded. "A noble fight indeed." But then he thought of something, something that had been bothering him lately. "Have you...faced anything lately?"

Hungary sighed as she read over another letter. "Not really. Life as been uneventful, which is great. Occasionally, I come across something that makes me rage. Like, I find myself asking, 'Holy shit, how sexist can you _be?_' And I often find myself asking that concerning both men and women. It's not a one-sided issue! Although sometimes it certainly seems like it." She paused to smirk. "Oh yeah, Maria, you make that alliance with Catherine the Great. You give that bastard Frederick a taste of his own medicine..."

Austria let out a laugh. He loved seeing his ex-wife like this, happy and confident and fighting for what she wanted. He was happy to join her in that fight. Looking back on his history that one morning after his odd out-of-body experience, he had been able to point out certain times in his life when he had not been especially accepting, especially humble, especially helpful...so many things. But Hungary had reassured him in the best way possible.

_"It's never too late to change."_

Never in his life had he appreciated her more than then.

But something still bothered him, just a little bit.

"Hungary?"

"Hmm?"

"I know that you, in your feminist mission, want to encourage and empower women. You want them to be strong, and want them to be able to stand up for themselves. That is a hard thing to do."

Hungary rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "In our culture, if a woman is assertive and strong, she's always labeled a bitch or overly aggressive or whatever. That pisses me off the most. I want to be strong _without _all that crap."

Austria nodded. "I understand that. That's why I'm asking..." He trailed off a bit, nervous about what he was about to say. Would Hungary accept it? Would she get angry? Would she hate him? The questions swirled about in his mind, and he bit his lip so hard his tongue soon met with a metallic taste. He swallowed it and ignored it. This was too important to let fear hold him back. "Well, the other day, I overheard a group of men complaining about how women have _too many _rights. Like, for example, only men _have_ to apply for the military in many countries, which is true. Also, if a mother and father are fighting for custody of a child, the mother will usually win it, regardless of how she is as a mother. Things like that." He frowned. "What do you think about that? What should I _say?_"

Surprisingly, a tiny smile appeared on Hungary's face, and she set the letter in her hand down. She didn't look at Austria when she spoke. "You know, I was reading an article online about that the other day, and I'd agree with those statements. I do think that's unfair towards men. Of course, I'd argue that there is much more stacked against women than there is against men, but that's another story entirely." She paused to smirk. "I think that feminism is about a lot more than just the empowerment of women; it's also about the equality of the genders. If the genders were equal, both men and women would have to sign up for the military. Or, better yet, we would potentially fight a lot less since there would be less injustices in the world. Then no one would _have _to sign up, and all people would be able to apply only if they wanted to. But that's an ideal so I'll go with the former for now. As far as the parent thing goes, part of the reason why the mother almost always wins custody of a child is because women are believed to _naturally _be better at parenting than men. There's no proof that that's true or untrue, but, if the genders were equal, whoever the better parent was would win custody of that child, be it the father or the mother. So...I would say to those people that gender equality would help men, too. It would give them the rights that only women have right now, and it would give women all the rights men have that they've been fighting for for so long." She exhaled heavily and finally looked back up at Austria. "Does that answer your question?"

Austria could only nod. He was both speechless and reminded of how much he still loved Hungary all in that moment.

He didn't have to speak. Hungary got her answer based on his expression alone.

Without another word, she reached into another box and pulled out another stack of papers. She flipped through a few of them until she came upon two small strips of paper. She read them over, and her eyes widened.

Austria finally found his voice. "What?"

Out of nowhere, Hungary started to laugh. She handed the papers to the Austrian and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. New ones replaced them, especially when Austria began to laugh along with her.

He set the papers down on the floor. "We were so awful," he managed as he continued to laugh.

Hungary nodded, covering her mouth to keep from howling with laughter. "Yeah...that really was a terrible idea."

The pick-up lines they had written in an attempt to marry Frederick and Maria Theresa lay innocently on the floor, despite how utterly _filthy _the words were.

Hungary eventually ended up laughing so hard that she fell over and landed on Austria's shoulder, which just made the two of them laugh even harder. Several minutes passed before they even began to calm down. Once they finally did, Hungary propped herself back up and stood, still crouching down to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. "We should really start cooking dinner and baking that dessert if we want to eat."

Austria nodded and fixed his glasses, which had slipped down to the tip of his nose in the midst of all the crazy laughter. He then packed all the papers back into the box, including the pick-up lines, and closed the top. He stood and picked up the old recipe book he had originally searched for. "Can't forget this."

Hungary nodded. "Indeed."

They climbed down the ladder and headed to the kitchen to work on their dinner and dessert together.

END


	23. BONUS: Fashion of His Love Remix

**Author's Note: **_Born This Hetalian Way _has received over ten thousand hits! THANK YOU, LITTLE FANFICTION MONSTERS!

Also, you can vote for your top five favorites of the original seventeen tracks in a new poll featured on my profile. Please do! :)

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Song: Fashion of His Love (Fernando Garibay Remix)**

_With all this new technology and the introduction of social networking websites, it really is easier than ever to stay connected. You can now speak to your friends and loved ones when they're thousands of miles away. You can send messages to the masses instantly and receive updates on what's going on in the world. The news is now available at all hours, anywhere in the world. Really, we are never alone anymore. With all these means of staying connected, there is no excuse for feeling lonely._

"...Then why am I lonely?"

Japan asked this to the small television in his modest Tokyo home, staring at the screen sadly as he huddled underneath his comforter. The room was dark, save for the glowing screen in front of him. Behind him, on his table, the work his boss had asked him to do was left undone. There was no wind outside, and the streets of Tokyo were almost empty, leaving the house strangely and scarily quiet. Anyone who walked into the home would think it was the set of a new Japanese horror film, thinking some terrifying killer could jump out at any moment.

Japan almost wished that one would. He was feeling depressed and hopeless enough to want to disappear. All alone in that little room, he further buried himself underneath the thick, heavy comforter.

Even Pochi wasn't present in the room, instead choosing to sleep in Japan's room, waiting for his master to come to bed. The little dog was worried about his master, of course, but he had already tried to cheer the man up with no luck, so he had stopped bothering. While he could bring a temporary smile to his master's face, he couldn't fix his master's problems. He couldn't communicate with him the way a human or another nation could. He felt powerless to the point that he didn't even want to be near his master. He was a failure as a dog! If Hachiko could see the situation, Pochi decided, he would be disgusted. After all, it was a dog's job to be loyal to its master and be there for its master no matter what. So now he was just as depressed as his master. All he could do was hope that his master cheered up on his own.

Sadly, there was no sign of Japan cheering up anytime soon. The news anchor continued to speak about how wonderful communication technology was, oblivious to the tears welling up in Japan's eyes. The little Asian rubbed them away. Japanese people didn't show emotion. Who the hell did he think he was?

"I have become so...Western."

It was true. Japan was often labeled as a perfect fusion of East and West, hanging onto his traditions while being able to adapt to new ideas and influences. Sometimes, however, he felt like he leaned more to one side than the other. Like right now. Showing emotion, even just a little bit of emotion, was so Western. Even though he was alone, it still didn't feel right to him.

Nothing felt right anymore.

The world was in a state of total chaos, and there was only so much Japan could do about it. He was extremely worried about his friends and the state of international politics and economics. America's debt was piling up every single day, and there were no signs that his wars would be ending any time soon. South Korea was in a constant state of paranoia over North Korea, as both he and the rest of the world never knew what the doppelgänger was going to do next. Russia had recently broken the news that his boss was suddenly encouraging Belarus's boss to merge the two countries, leaving him petrified. Because of that, the other former Soviet countries feared a recreation of a Soviet Union-like state. Egypt was trying to clean up after his revolution and stabilize his new government while giving his people what they wanted. At the same time, he was somewhat fearful of what would happen to his neighbors with their own revolutions. Germany was under more pressure than ever to save the European Union and avoid an economic meltdown that would have a worldwide effect. It seemed like the other European countries, especially the ones in serious economic trouble, weren't even trying to fix the problem, instead relying on Germany entirely, but, in actuality, they were just too scared of making the wrong decisions. No one knew what to do, both in and out of Europe.

Japan was most worried about Greece, as was much of the world. Greece had been having problems for years, but they had never been big enough to cause that many international problems. Now, however, the rest of the European Union and some of the other European countries were blaming him for the crisis. Even America was upset with him, as he relied on the countries of the European Union to keep himself stable during his own tough times.

But it wasn't like Greece had _wanted _to cause an economic meltdown, Japan reasoned. He hadn't asked to join the European Union just so he could mess it up. But now the economic troubles had spread to Italy, Spain, England, and several other countries. Some of the countries called for Greece to leave the Union, thinking it save the more stable countries from crashing themselves. Greece didn't want to default on his debt, but he and Germany were running out of options. Germany didn't want to face _another _economic crisis. The days of running wheelbarrows full of money down to the market just to buy a loaf of bread were still hauntingly fresh in his mind.

And then Japan had his own problems.

He, his boss, and his people were cleaning up the mess after a massive earthquake had caused a deadly tsunami to hit his shores. Because of those natural disasters, he also had a nuclear mess to clean, but that one was going to take so much long-!

Japan lifted the comforter over his head and curled into a little ball on the floor, staring down at the mats and ignoring the television. The position took him back in time, back when he was still closed off to the world. He would sit in the dark with his comforter wrapped around him as something of a security blanket. He barely saw anyone, even his own people. The thought of running into any foreigners had absolutely terrified him at the time. Even though he had still been open to trade with China and Korea and a few other Asian nations, he hadn't even wanted to see them, content to let the humans interact with one another.

But then...sometimes...

Japan almost wished that Netherlands would come barging into his house, just like he always had during his isolation period. The Dutchman would be smoking his pipe, sometimes causing Japan to be able to _smell _him coming. He would force his way inside and yank the comforter away from the little Asian, causing him to cry out and beg for his security back. Sometimes Netherlands would shove a bouquet of tulips in his face for no real reason and then demand tea, which Japan would reluctantly yet politely give him. The two would talk about their trade agreement, offering new goods to buy and sell. Sometimes Netherlands would tell Japan about how the rest of the world was doing, especially of what was happening in Europe. The stories were always extremely interesting to Japan, but he had never really wanted to be part of them. He had always been content just to listen. Netherlands had never been satisfied with that, instead wanting Japan to join the rest of the world, but he never said anything about it. However, once Japan had opened to the world (read: America had forced him to trade with him and eventually blackmailed him into trading with the rest of the Western world), anyone who asked Belgium about her brother's thoughts would receive a giggle as a response (read: Netherlands was thrilled).

But there was no chance of Netherlands stomping his way into Japan's home, not now. The two, while still friends, were not exclusive trade partners anymore.

Plus, with the global economy the way it was, everyone, even those who were still well-off, was trying to save money.

And those without money couldn't travel.

He hadn't seen Greece in months...

Japan reached out from underneath the comforter and turned the television off, leaving him in complete darkness and dead silence. His hand then wormed its way back inside its cocoon of blankets, and he settled himself flat on the floor. Quietly, he began to cry, remembering what Greece had said to him earlier that day.

_"The European economic crisis is getting worse."_

_"Yes, I know."_

_"We need to save money however we can."_

_"...I know."_

_"...My boss won't let me come see you anymore."_

_A muffled gasp._

_"No..."_

_Greece nodded at his boyfriend over the video chat software. "I can only travel for business now, not pleasure. My boss told me that the only way I can see you now...is like this. Over the computer. Because it's free."_

_Japan just stared at the screen._

_Greece dropped his head. "I'm so sorry..."_

Japan had wanted to say so many things to his beloved boyfriend at that moment. He had wanted to scream and cry and beg for him not to stop seeing him. Japan understood the value of money in the modern world, yes. He needed money in order to keep his economy up the best he could while cleaning up the messes affecting his country. It was his duty as a nation to keep the best interest of his politics, economics, and people in mind.

But he also had human emotions.

And he wanted things to be _normal _again.

He hadn't played a gig since his band had been the opening act at a major concert back in March. America hadn't been to his place to hang out and tour the cities since then. In fact, anyone who came to see him was there purely for business. Where was the fun? Where was the work and the play? Yes, he had the demeanor of a businessman, but he also had the desire to break the rules of the cool teenagers that walked the streets of Tokyo.

And he wanted to see his boyfriend. He hadn't seen him since the natural disaster, and now he couldn't see him because of the economic disaster.

Somewhere between all the crying he did that night, he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Japan dragged himself out of his house, continuing to avoid the work his boss wanted done. It was Sunday anyway; he didn't need to do crap. He left the house before Pochi even woke up, leaving a bowl of kibble for the little dog for when he did wake up. Dressed casually, inconspicuously, he headed out towards the shopping districts of his city, stopping at a convenience store for breakfast along the way. Even if things didn't feel normal, he could at least try to pretend they were.

He was one of the first people to arrive in the shopping centers, right when the stores were first opening. He watched as the lights turned on and the merchandise went out on display.

"Hey, Kiku!"

Japan looked up to see one of the shop owners, a good friend of his. He put a smile on. "Hello," he greeted back. "Good morning."

The shop owner grinned. "How's my best customer? Need a new outfit for your band? New gig?"

Japan shook his head. "Not today. We haven't booked anything in months..."

The owner frowned. "Sorry to hear that. I'll put a word out if you want. Someone's gotta see it."

"That would be nice, thank you."

"Man, you're in a funk, aren't you?" the shop owner asked bluntly. The question/statement surprised Japan a bit. It sounded more like something one of his Western friends would say, not a Japanese person. Regardless, he sighed and nodded.

"My day job is not...going very well." He mentally winced. He hated lying to his friend, but he couldn't tell just anyone that he was a nation. Even his fellow band members didn't know.

The shop owner grinned. "I've got something that'll put a smile on your face. Stay right there!" He ran inside the shop, and Japan heard him run all the way to the back, towards the storage room. He was back within seconds, with something wrapped in his arms. "Look at this!" he cheered, holding a beautiful, luxurious, expensive-looking coat in his hands. It was covered in layers of textured fabric and glittering crystals. "I'm not supposed to sell this until next season, but, for you, I'll sell it now...for a discount!"

Japan gasped. "Oh my, no, I couldn't possibly..."

The shop owner shook his head, still grinning. "You're my best customer, and your music totally rocks. I insist! Coats are the designer's specialty, so they're the most expensive things he makes. Plus, people from all over the world come to Japan just to buy them. A few months ago, a Turkish guy came into the store and bought one. Then he sent me an e-mail a few weeks later telling me it was one of the best things he ever bought because it got him a ton of attention at a concert! Cool, huh?"

Japan suddenly felt like crying. "Turkey..." he just barely whispered, staring at the coat. Why hadn't he noticed? Though a bit different to match the season, it was the same style of coat as Turkey had bought back during the winter, when he had come to Japan to spy on him and Greece. He loved that coat. He wanted that coat. Now a similar coat from the same designer was being offered to him for a discount.

But, more importantly, Turkey had worn that coat at a time when Greece could still visit him.

A time when his band was still booking gigs.

A time when everything was _normal._

...Screw everything.

"I'll take it."

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly. Japan didn't buy much else, as, even with the discount, the coat was still expensive. He was happy though. In addition to not playing anywhere, he hadn't bought any new clothes since his last concert. Buying the coat had given him a little spark of hope, like things were slowly starting to become normal.

He made it home in the late afternoon, greeting Pochi with a sincere smile. There were still traces of sadness behind the smile, but Pochi was happy to see his master's spirits a little higher than when he had last seen him. He yipped excitedly and started to beg for his dinner, which Japan set down for him as soon as he had settled back at home.

"Dinner," he murmured to himself as he stood and watched his dog start to eat. He went to the cabinet and saw that he had a package of curry. Good enough. He started up his rice cooker and started to heat up the curry.

Halfway though, he realized that he was making enough food for two people.

His heart sank.

_Greece..._

The doorbell rang.

Japan looked up from the bubbling curry and ran to the door. He opened it quickly.

And nearly died on the spot.

"Hi, Japan."

Japan screamed and tackled Greece to the ground. Greece just laughed, being as laid back as he was. He didn't even mind Japan sobbing into his shirt. In fact, he treasured it. He had been trying for years to get Japan to express his emotions, and now he finally was. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a bit guilty, but he ignored it. For the moment, he and Japan could both pretend that nothing was wrong. They could pretend that they were human.

Japan still clung to Greece as the taller man brought him inside, closing the front door behind him. In the background, Japan smelled his curry burning, but he didn't really care. He cried into Greece's chest and felt him run his fingers though his short, fine hair. He could also feel his large hands rubbing his back. The sensations were so familiar, so soothing. In that moment, Japan finally realized just how much he had missed his wonderful boyfriend. Greece was like a lifeline for him, someone who made him feel alive. Without him, without _any _of his friends, he felt dead inside. Opening up to the world had been scary, something new, but it had also been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had met so many amazing people, so many other fascinating, friendly nations.

Greece was the best.

Finally, Japan began to calm down. "How are you here?" he whispered through tears.

Greece was a bit hesitant in his reply. "Not important."

"Yes, it...!

"No, it isn't." He tilted Japan's head up so he could look into his beautiful, deep, brown eyes. "The only important thing is that I'm here with you." He gently kissed the lips of his lover. "I love you, Japan. That won't ever change, no matter what happens, no matter how far away we are." He kissed him again, passionately this time, and started to take off his clothes.

Japan found his voice again. "Wait!" he gasped, grabbing Greece's wrist. "Hold on, I'm sorry. I just...Oh, my God, it's all happening so fast." He hugged his boyfriend tightly. "I love you. I missed you so much."

Greece was about to reply when he smelled something odd. "Japan? Is something...burning?"

"...SHIT!"

Japan let go of Greece and ran into the kitchen to save his curry, but it was long gone. The rice was okay, but the curry itself was dead, burnt horribly. He sighed and went to throw it out when his cellphone rang. "Of all the times to call..." he muttered, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello? Yes?"

Greece waited a few moments before he heard more screaming coming from the kitchen. Alarmed, he ran into the room, staring at a blissfully happy, almost hysterical Japan and smelling horribly burnt curry. He cocked an eyebrow. "Burnt curry...makes you happy?"

"WE GOT A GIG!"

"What?"

Japan hung up his phone and pounced on Greece, wrapping both his arms and his legs around his torso. "A GIG! A JOB!" he cried, happy tears running down his cheeks. "My band! This Friday! We're playing ALL NIGHT at a huge club in Shinjuku!" He flung himself on his boyfriend again, knocking him to the ground again. Greece didn't mind, even though the hardwood floor was painful against his head. He laughed as Japan squealed and Pochi began jumping around them, barking happily.

Greece kissed Japan's forehead. "I can come, right?"

Japan's eyes widened. "You'll...still be here by then?"

Greece nodded. "I'll be here for a whole week."

He smiled when Japan started to cry again, because he knew his boyfriend was so happy he couldn't stand it. He wrapped his arms around Japan and rolled over so the two were both lying on the floor, still in each other's arms.

Greece kissed Japan's forehead again. "What should we do about dinner?"

Japan blushed and rubbed his eyes. "The curry's burnt. I don't feel like going out."

"Rice balls?"

"That works." Japan smiled sweetly. "I spent too much money today anyway."

"On what?"

"You'll see. I'll wear it at the gig."

It would be hours before the two would get up and actually make their dinner, but they didn't mind. Pochi somehow managed to snuggle in between the two of them, and he leaned up against Japan, looking up at his master with bright eyes. He placed a little puppy kiss on his cheek, telling him just how happy _he _was.

And Japan knew it. He could _feel _it. His happiness was coming back. His sense of _normalcy _was coming back.

And, for the first time in months, he felt like everything was going to be alright.

* * *

"You're a good man."

Egypt smirked at Turkey, who turned away from him.

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Oh, come on," Egypt sighed, crossing his arms as he sat down next to him on the couch. "You're happy for them."

"I'm happy for _Japan._"

Pause.

"And I still think he should have chosen to be with me."

Egypt rolled his eyes, amused. "Yeah, okay. Not just a river in my country."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"...The little brat better pay me back."

"Yeah, right. You don't expect a thing from him."

"..."

"Admit it."

"..."

"I'm waiting."

"...Yeah."

Egypt smiled and rested his head on his friend's shoulder.

"He doesn't have to pay me back."

END

Note: Hachiko is the name of a dog that symbolizes loyalty and faithfulness in Japan. The story is that Hachiko waited at the train station for his master to come home from work every single day, even after he died. Hachiko continued to wait for nine years until he himself died in 1935. In 1934, the bronze statue of Hachiko was unveiled at Shibuya Station. You can see it today, along with bronze footprints at the spot where Hachiko waited.


	24. Epilogue

**Author's Note: **This track...is not a track. There is no song to go along with this chapter. This is a super fluffy epilogue for the Gakuen Hetalia timeline that I just haven't been able to get out of my head. So enjoy. After this, all that's left is the CD booklet.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Epilogue**

"And so the unicorn was reunited with his fairy friend. They played together in the magical forest, and they all lived happily ever after. The end."

Feliciano quietly closed the storybook and smiled at the sleeping infant in his arms. He kissed the baby's little head and whispered, "Have a nice siesta, Anthony. Sweet dreams." He then set the book on the nightstand and put the baby in his crib, resting one of his many plush toys nearby. As soon as he was sure his son was settled, he turned on the nearby music player. Soft, soothing violin music soon filled the room. Feliciano was starting to feel like taking a siesta himself.

But there was no time for that. He picked the storybook up and smiled at the cover. Author: Arthur Kirkland. Who would have thought that cranky, stuffy British kid from high school could write such an adorable story? In fact, he had already written dozens of children's fairy tales and short stories that had quickly become popular all over Europe.

Feliciano put the book back on the shelf and left the nursery, leaving the door open slightly so that he could still hear the music. It blew his mind to think that it was that Norwegian kid from high school making that beautiful music. He hadn't even known that he played the violin! Not long after graduating from a college in Oslo, he had been discovered. Now he and all his Nordic friends were in the music industry. His Danish boyfriend also played the violin and managed him, and his Icelandic younger brother organized his events. Their friends, Berwald and Tino, had moved in together after Tino had graduated from a university in Helsinki and split their time between Sweden and Finland. Tino had become a well-known DJ throughout Scandinavia and often worked with Berwald to make his mixes. When he wasn't working with his "wife," Berwald still worked at IKEA, the place he had gotten his first job. He couldn't help wanting to stay there; he loved building things.

Out in the hallway, Feliciano checked his watch. "Ve, gotta go pick up Sam in an hour," he murmured. But then he smiled. "I have time to paint!" And he headed into another room down that hallway, his studio.

There really had been nothing for Ludwig to worry about. After graduating from an art university in Rome, Feliciano had moved to Berlin, into a small, charming home with his beloved then-fiancé. Just like he had promised, he had done his best to learn German. At the time, he had spoken the language well enough to live in Germany, but now he was a fluent speaker. In between those years, he had made a name for himself in the art world. Being traditionally trained the Italian way, his art varied from the German artists of Berlin, but that was what kept him interesting. Now he had museum shows regularly. Ludwig had been happy to let him have a studio in their home, too, since Feliciano also wanted to be able to spend time with their surrogate children.

He put his apron on and switched the nearby television on for a bit of background noise. He set up his paint as a news program came on.

"And now for some international news," the anchor announced. "The recent revolution in Belarus has finally calmed down, and the country is starting to get back on its feet. The revolution started as a movement led by a young woman named Natalia Arlovskaya, who said that she wanted her country to be strong and prosperous so that it could build new, successful relationships with neighboring countries and, eventually, the rest of the world. Arlovskaya has been described as passionate and and ambitious by her supporters, claiming that, from a young age, she had always wanted to appeal to her older brother, whom she rarely got to see growing up. Her Russian older brother is Ivan Braginski, who recently released his own brand of vodka. Arlovskaya hopes that, in addition to helping her country, she will be able to recreate her relationship with her brother."

Feliciano loaded up a brush full of blue paint and rolled his eyes. "Of course," he sighed, smiling. "Natalia would." He started to layer blue paint onto the blank canvas.

"And now, some interesting political news out of the United States," the anchor continued. "Up and coming Independent Alfred F. Jones has announced that, as soon as he meets the age requirement, he would definitely consider running for President. In the US, one must be at least thirty-five years old, but Jones is already garnering a lot of attention for his policies. A native of Washington D.C., Jones says that he's always loved the intensity of politics and had always wanted to express his ideals for his country. Normally, Independents do not fare well in elections, but Jones has been popular with both Democrats and Republicans, as well as many Independent parties. He even has the support of a few former Presidents. Jones is known for being charismatic and likable and well as international. As a teenager, he attended the famous Hetalia Academy. His younger brother is Matthew Williams, the Canadian hockey player who quickly became one of the most well-known and memorable players in the sport for his stunning performance in last year's Stanley Cup Finals. Additionally, Jones is set to marry his Vietnam-born fiancée this summer.

"Exciting medical news coming out of China. A young doctor named Wang Yao has made major progress towards discovering potential cures and vaccines for several terminal illnesses. Dr. Wang is known for mixing ancient Chinese medicine with modern technology. His mentors and colleagues joke that, even though he looks young, he has the knowledge and attitude of an immortal. Right now, he is testing a vaccine for a virus that can lead to cancer. His colleagues believe that it will be successful in the testing stages."

Out of nowhere, the phone rang. Feliciano set his paints down, wiped his hand clean, and answered it in German. "Hello?"

"Feliciano-kun..."

"Kiku!" the little Italian squealed in English. "Ve, how are you? We haven't spoken in so long!"

"Indeed," the Japanese man replied, smiling a bit on the other end. "Forgive me, I have been very busy at work lately. But my new manga series is being released in Japan next month. If it becomes popular here, it will be translated into other languages and shipped out."

"I'm sure it'll be REALLY popular!" Feliciano replied. "Your first series got popular really quickly, and we were able to buy it in German within the year. So don't worry!" He giggled a bit. "By the way, how is Heracles?"

Kiku was suddenly thankful that he was on the phone so his friend couldn't see his blushing cheeks. He shuffled awkwardly in his spot, and his voice was very quiet when he finally spoke. "Good," he murmured. "He is...finishing his book." His cheeks grew even pinker. Even though and Heracles had been together since graduating from Hetalia Academy, he was still extremely shy about their relationship.

He gasped a bit when Feliciano spoke again. "Ve, that philosophy book, right? He's turning out to be just like his mama!"

"Yes, she is very proud of him," Kiku replied. "Heracles's philosophy is very interesting though, if not...unusual. Philosophy about cats..."

"But that's how we know it's Heracles!"

"I suppose so..."

"What about Sadiq?"

"He is writing his book, too. He's currently in Egypt with Gupta working on it." Kiku grinned. "The connection between Egyptian and Turkish art history is very interesting. Gupta's connection with the museums in his country are really helping. And his mother is contributing a section on mythological art history alone."

"I'll have to read it!" Feliciano exclaimed. "I mostly studied Western art at university, but I'd like to learn more about other kinds of art. It'll help me be a better artist!" He suddenly smiled nostalgically. "Ve, Kiku, you should come visit us soon. It's been so long since we've seen you, back when Sam was a baby. She doesn't remember you at all. Anthony hadn't even been born yet. You should take some time off soon so we can spend some time together. We could even take the train to Paris and go to Francis's new restaurant! It's called Jeanne, named after Joan of Arc. It won a major award recently, and he's been called one of the best new chefs in France!"

"That is wonderful!" Kiku's voice was genuinely excited. "I have never eaten French food before, but I would like to. I will consider it...and I mean that seriously."

Feliciano laughed. "Good! You have to specify those things for me, ve. Just tell me when you can come over. I'm sure Ludwig would love to see you, too."

"I hope so," Kiku agreed. "Thank you, Feliciano."

"You're welcome! Real quick, how is Yong-soo?"

"He's starting a new video game project with the company. It's going to be a fighting game, of course. That is just like him."

Both laughed.

"I have to go now, Feliciano, goodbye. It was nice speaking with you."

"Bye-bye!"

Feliciano hung the phone up and went back to his half-filled canvas. As soon as he sat down, he picked up his paints and went back to work, this time filling his brush with green colors. The television continued to play, still telling the international news of the day.

"And there was quite a bit of excitement in the fashion world last night. A new designer debuted in Warsaw, Poland, to universal praise from some of Europe's top critics. Feliks Łukasiewicz's designs are described as flamboyant and over-the-top with great attention to detail. When asked about his inspiration, the young designer simply replied that he loves everything fabulous. Łukasiewicz's partner, Toris Lorinaitis of Lithuania, organized the show with the help of their friend and computer specialist Eduard von Bock of Estonia. Their friend from high school, Raivis Galante of Latvia, made his modeling debut in the men's wear segment of the show last night as well. Galante is on the short side, but he was also praised by the critics for being just as striking as any of the taller models."

That was when the phone rang again. Feliciano set the paints down again and picked it up quickly. "Hello?"

"FELI!"

The Italian actually pulled the phone away from his ear, Elizaveta's voice was so loud. He wondered what had made her so excited. "Hi, Elizaveta," he laughed awkwardly, "what's going on?"

"Feli, Feli, oh, my God!" the Hungarian woman squealed. "Oh, my God, Feli, I have THE BEST news EVER!"

"What is it!" Feliciano asked eagerly. Whatever it was, it had to be amazing! Only a few things made Elizaveta _this_ excited. "Tell me, tell me, please!" He could hear the Hungarian jumping up and down on the other end.

"Oh, my God, Feli," Elizaveta repeated, "Feli, I'm pregnant!"

Feliciano covered his mouth to keep from gasping too loudly. However, he couldn't stop the happy squeal that escaped from his throat. "That's _wonderful!_" he exclaimed. "Oh, my God, Elizaveta, that _is_ the best news ever! I'm so happy for you! Ve, did you just find out today?"

"Uh-huh!" the Hungarian replied happily. "Roderich and I just got back from the doctor a few minutes ago. I wanted to tell you first!"

Feliciano felt his heart flutter in his chest. "I'm honored," he replied, smiling ear-to-ear. "That is truly great news. Oh man, I'm so excited! I can't wait to see you! Ludwig and I will have to come to Austria sometime soon."

"Yes! Please come see us!"

"Is Roderich there, by the way?"

"Yup, I'll put him on!"

Feliciano waited until he heard the familiar voice of the Austrian on the other end. "Hello."

"You're gonna be a daddy, Roderich!"

"Indeed I am." His voice was calm, but Feliciano could _hear_ the smile on his face, and he knew the Austrian was beaming with pride. "I'm quite excited. I will, of course, be teaching him or her...or them...to play the piano." He chuckled softly and sighed, content. "I suppose that this is yet another way in which Gilbert and I will be rivals."

Feliciano laughed. "Yeah, it will be! Ve, don't listen to anything Gilbert says though. We all know that you'll be a great daddy." He giggled, oblivious to the blush blooming on Roderich's cheeks. But then he stopped, as if he had just remembered something. "Oh, Gilbert..."

Roderich's voice lost its excitement. "Have you spoken to him since the funeral?"

Feliciano shook his head. "Ludwig has but I haven't. Ludwig didn't tell me anything though. I think that Gilbert is trying to avoid the subject as much as possible. He didn't even cry that much at the funeral. He said, 'The awesome me isn't crying! It's just too damn stuffy in this room! God, do funeral homes EVER leave the windows open?' Of course, I'd imagine he probably _sobbed_ once he got home."

Roderich sighed sadly. That sounded exactly like his old friend and rival. He wondered if Katy would know anything, but he decided not to bring her up. "He might have," he admitted. "I just think he'd feel a lot better if he let himself grieve..."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Feliciano suddenly interrupted. "Let's talk about something else. Have you spoken to Vash recently? I haven't heard from him, ve."

"He's working at a bank in Bern, as usual," Roderich replied. "He's just as worried as ever about dear Lillie, of course. She got an apprenticeship at a tailoring shop, by the way."

"That's great! Good for her!"

Roderich nodded even though he knew Feliciano couldn't see him. "Well, Elizaveta and I are going to go do some planning for the nursery. We just wanted to tell you the good news. Please tell Ludwig when he comes home. We'll call you again this weekend to speak with him."

"Good! I'm sure he'd love to hear from you!" the Italian replied. "Thank you so much for telling me. Good luck to you both! I love you!"

"We love you, too, Feli!" Elizaveta squealed from the other side of the room.

Roderich laughed a bit. "You're welcome, Feli, and thank you. Bye."

"Bye!"

Just as Feliciano hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. He quickly turned the television off, put his painting supplied in a nearby box, and ran to the front door to open it. What he saw surprised him.

_"Fratello!" _he squealed, jumping up and wrapping his arms around Lovino. The older Italian groaned and pushed him off.

"Stop that, you idiot!" he barked. "I don't even wanna be here. This stupid moron _forced _me to come here, because he wanted to see if the older potato bastard was home." He pointed to Antonio, who was standing behind him with a big, dopey grin on his face.

"_Si,_ I did want to see Gilbert," he admitted, "but I also wanted to see you, Feli!"

"Aw, thank you, Antonio!" Feliciano turned and hugged the Spaniard tightly, the two of them now wearing identical smiles. "I didn't know you'd be in Germany, ve," he said as he pulled away. "Come in, come in!" He moved out of the way for the two of them and took their jackets just as he heard the sound of a baby crying resound throughout the house. "Oh, little Anthony is awake!"

"I'm sorry," Antonio gasped, "did we wake him?"

Feliciano shook his head. "His siesta time is almost over anyway. I was expecting him to wake up around now. Excuse me!" He quickly headed down the hallway to the nursery and returned a few moments later with a still-sleepy baby in his arms. Antonio squealed the moment he saw the child, blabbering on about how adorable he was. Lovino just crossed his arms and pouted. Why couldn't Antonio react that way whenever _he_ came into a room?

Suddenly, Feliciano gasped and looked at his watch. "Ve, uh-oh," he murmured, "I have to pick Sam up from kindergarten."

"You can leave Anthony with us!" Antonio cheered, reaching out for the baby. "Don't worry, it's fine!"

"Really?" Feliciano smiled. "Oh, thank you so much." He passed the little boy to his uncles and placed a kiss on his head. "You be good for Uncle Lovi and Uncle Tonio, okay? Papa will be right back." He giggled a bit when little Anthony yawned in response, snuggling up to Antonio.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "You better be teaching the little half-potato-sucking spawn Italian..."

"Don't worry, I am!" Feliciano cheered as he put his jacket on. "Sam is learning it pretty well so far, but her English is still better. Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes!" He waved to his brother and brother-in-law and left for his daughter's school.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, the front door burst open. "Uncle Lovi! Uncle Tonio!" a little girl squealed, running into the house. She scrambled her way into the living room and nearly screamed when she saw her uncles. "Hi!"

"Hello, my darling niece!" Antonio exclaimed, bouncing little Anthony on his lap. By now, the boy was wide awake and had a big smile on his face. He started to clap his hands as soon as he saw his big sister. Sam smiled at her brother and kissed his forehead before giving her uncles hugs and kisses.

"How is your pizza parlor, Uncle Lovi?" she asked.

At long last, the Italian smiled. "Doing well. You like pizza more than yucky sausages, right?"

Sam giggled. "I like sausages _on _my pizza!"

Lovino's face dropped. He turned to the doorway to the living room, where he finally saw his younger brother, and scowled at him. "Feliciano," he spat, "you're raising a demon child."

"Lovi," Feliciano sighed, "that's not very nice."

"It's okay!" Sam insisted, still smiling. "He's said worse to me!"

"...Thank Machiavelli your _vati_ isn't here."

Sam just grinned.

"So!" Feliciano continued. "I was going to make lasagna for dinner. Ve, is that okay?"

"LASAGNA!" Sam squealed, jumping up and down in her spot. "Yes! Yes! Make lasagna, Papa! With sausages in it!" She didn't see the glare from her Italian uncle.

Feliciano nodded. "I was planning on it!" He turned to his brother and winked. "Italian sausage," he whispered. He let out a small sigh of relief when Lovino smirked and nodded approvingly.

* * *

About an hour later, the front door opened again. "I'm home!"

Sam looked up from her toys on the living room floor and gasped. _"VATIIIIIIII!"_ she nearly screamed, jumping up and running to the front door. Antonio, who was still holding Anthony, winced a bit at the noise and looked down at the baby, who was still smiling. It amazed him that the little boy wasn't fazed by all the noise his big sister made. He looked over at Lovino, who looked like he was about to rage. Thankfully, he stayed in his seat and barely made a noise as Ludwig entered the room.

"Oh, hello," he said when he saw his in-laws, "I didn't know you guys were here."

"We came by earlier!" Antonio laughed. "I originally wanted to see Gilbert, but I wanted to see you and Feli, too. It's just been so long since we've seen you!" He stood and offered Anthony to his father. Ludwig smiled a bit and took his son in his arms.

"Hey there, little guy," he greeted, patting him on the back as he settled the boy. "Did you behave yourself today?"

Antonio grinned. "He's a little angel!"

"Me, too!" Sam insisted, raising her hand. "I was good, too, _Vati._ I learned a lot at school today!"

"Did you?" Ludwig asked his daughter. "You can tell me all about it at dinner. What is Papa making?"

"Lasagna!"

"Sounds good. Antonio, can you take Anthony again? Sorry." He passed the baby to his in-law. "I'm going to go say hi to Feli and change clothes. These ties kill me." He loosened the noose-like object and smiled tiredly as he headed towards the kitchen. Sure enough, Feli was putting a tray full of delicious-looking lasagna into the oven. "Hi, Feli, I'm home."

"Hee, I know," the Italian replied, smiling as he closed the oven door and set the timer. "Welcome home, did you have a good day?" He pressed a kiss to his husband's lips and pulled away, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I miss you so much when you're at work."

"My day was fine," Ludwig replied quietly, kissing Feliciano again. "I'm glad to be home."

"What did you do today?"

"We're working on a project with a partner company to engineer a new car model."

"Sounds good, ve." Feliciano smiled softly. "I know you like your work, but I like it better when you're home."

Ludwig nodded. "I like that, too. Did you paint today?"

Feliciano nodded. "I started something new today. I'll show you later."

"Okay, I'm going to go change." Ludwig kissed Feliciano's forehead and let go of him so he could head up the stairs to their bedroom.

While he was up there, Feliciano heard several loud knocks on the front door. He headed past the living room, where Lovino and Antonio were still keeping Sam and Anthony busy, and opened the door, only to gasp in shock.

"Hey, favorite brother-in-law!"

Lovino hissed.

"...Gilbert!" Feliciano managed to choke out the name. "Gil...oh my, what...what are you doing here?"

"Huh?" the albino questioned, raising an eyebrow. "What? I can't visit my awesome little brother and his awesome family whenever I want? Totally not awesome, Feli. Besides, it's like a freakin' party in here. Hey, Antonio!"

"Ah, Gilbert!" the Spaniard gasped happily, standing. "I was hoping I'd see you while in Berlin! How are you?"

Gilbert grinned. "Awesome, as usual."

Feliciano frowned. "Really?" he asked quietly. "Are you?"

"Well, _of course._" The albino rolled his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?" He didn't bother waiting for a response and, instead, moved out of the way. "Now, can we come in or what?"

Feliciano's eyes traveled over to the person standing behind Gilbert. "KATY!" he cried. "Oh, my God, Katy, I'm so _sorry! _Come in, come in!" He motioned for the two to come inside, feeling terribly guilty.

Luckily, Katy was a forgiving person. "It's quite alright," she said gently. "But...I'd really like to sit down..."

"Right here!" Antonio moved away from his chair, one of the armchairs in the room, bouncing Anthony in his arms. "Here you go, Katy. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Antonio," the Ukrainian woman sighed. "I'm sorry, I just..." She rested her hands on her large belly as she sat down. "It's just that the baby is very active. It moves around and kicks all the time. It has so much energy." Despite the tiredness in her voice, she still smiled. "Just like its daddy."

Gilbert puffed up his chest in pride. "It inherited my awesomeness. It's gonna be just like me!"

"Oh, God, _no..._"

Gilbert turned towards the new voice and grinned. "You're gonna have to deal with an awesome, little me _really_ soon, West," he snickered, heading over to his younger sibling and poking his arm. "It's probably a good thing that Feli's the biological dad of your kids, because the world can't take anymore unawesome tightwads."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and the world could really do without anymore chaos. I _pray_ your child takes after Katy."

"It'll be awesome either way!" the albino laughed, winking at Katy. "Because I have the most awesome wife ever. She's gonna be the most awesome mommy ever, too. And she's also just the most awesome woman ever, period! Heh, way more awesome than Roddy's wife, definitely."

"Oh yeah!" Feliciano interrupted, smiling brightly. "Roderich and Elizaveta called me today. Elizaveta is pregnant!"

The room quickly erupted into happy gasps and cheers. "Oh, that's _wonderful!_" Katy sighed, smiling gently. "Elizaveta will be a fantastic mother. She and Roderich must be so excited."

Feliciano nodded. "Yeah! Ve, they've been married for four years now, so it was only a matter of time."

"Heh," Gilbert snickered, "I'm totally gonna be a more awesome dad than Specs will _ever_ be. And my kid will _always _be more awesome, because its mom and dad are totally awesome. When you've got two totally unawesome pa...! Hey, stop it, West! That hurts!" He yanked himself away from his little brother, who had started to pull on his ear to make him shut up.

"Be happy for them," Ludwig said sternly, a disappointed frown on his face. "Can't you do anything in life without being overly obnoxious?"

"Pfft, you're just jealous that I inherited all the awesome from _our_ parents."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Come here, Antonio, I'll take Anthony." He took his son from the arms of his in-law and headed to the next room, Gilbert and Antonio following behind. Reluctantly, Lovino stood and followed them, muttering something about potatoes and wanting Antonio's attention.

Once they were gone, Sam got up and stood next to the occupied armchair. "Aunt Katy," she began, "when do I get to meet my cousin?"

Katy smiled down at her niece. "Probably sometime next week," she replied, reaching down and patting Sam's little, blonde head. "Are you excited?"

The young girl nodded. "Uh-huh. Babies are cute. If Anthony is cute, this baby will be cute, too." She smiled at up at her aunt. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"Ve, that's right," Feliciano added, "I was going to ask you that, too, Katy."

The mother-to-be shook her head. "No, Gilbert and I want it to be a surprise."

Suddenly, Feliciano sighed. "I'm surprised you're here," he confessed. "You _are_ due next week, Katy."

"But we're still in Berlin," Katy reasoned. "Gilbert and I just live on the Eastern half. It's a short ride to the Western half from our house. It's not like we left the city."

"I guess..." Feliciano trailed off, frowning. "Also...I just can't believe that Gilbert...Well, it _is_ Gilbert, so I guess it's not so surprising that he's acting like nothing's wrong. That's so like him. It's just...wow, I didn't think he'd be out and about. I guess I was just expecting him to grieve a little bit. I mean, Fritz died only two weeks ago. And he and Gilbert were so close..."

Katy nodded sadly. "Yes, I'm a little worried. I don't like the fact that he's bottling everything up; it's not healthy. I know that he misses Fritz terribly, with good reason! Fritz got him his first job after he graduated from his university. Gilbert _still _works for that same company. He doesn't work there as much because he's getting money from his blog nowadays, but the work still means a lot to him. I think it reminds him of Fritz." She sighed and wiped the corners of her eyes. "I loved him, too. He was such a great man. I didn't know him for as long as Gilbert did, but he was still such a wonderful friend. I miss him very much."

Out of nowhere, Sam spoke, her voice excited. "I have an idea!" She smiled brightly and bounced a bit. "Aunt Katy, if the baby is a boy, you should name him Frederick and call him Fritz. I think it would make Uncle Gilbert really happy. Plus, then the baby would be even _more_ awesome!" She giggled a bit at her aunt's pleasantly surprised face.

"That's a great idea, Sam darling," Katy replied, smiling again and patting the little girl's head. "But what about if it's a girl?"

Sam scratched her forehead and pursed her lips, as if she were deep in thought. Feliciano and Katy couldn't help but laugh a bit; her face was adorable. "Then...you should name her something that...sounds like Frederick?" She shook her head. "No, that would be silly. Whatever! Just have a boy, Aunt Katy! Its easier that way!"

Feliciano and Katy laughed again. "Okay, I'll do that, Sam dear," Katy replied, still laughing. "You're so smart." Her eyes shifted towards the hallway, where she saw her husband laughing with Antonio while Ludwig ignored Lovino's insults. She wanted to smile, but she knew that, deep down, the love of her life was hurting. She could sense it. His smile wasn't as smug, his laugh wasn't as obnoxious, and his eyes were a dull maroon instead of their usual flaming red. Quietly, she placed a hand on her pregnant belly.

"Name it after Frederick if it's a boy, huh?"

* * *

The dinner table was quite a sight that night. Feliciano felt like he was back in Italy as he set his delicious lasagna on the table. Thankful that he had made so much, he placed big pieces of the noodles, meat, cheese, and sauce on all the plates while large plates full of garlic bread were passed around. The house was loud, with everyone speaking at once and food traveling all across the table. Feliciano smiled at the scene and glanced at his husband, who wore a rare, blissfully happy smile, not even thinking about all the cleanup that would follow the meal. It made Feliciano happy to see his husband like this. And, as much as he loved living in Germany, he also loved being reminded of his home country. True, he and his little family visited Italy at least once a year, but he still missed his country. So to see everyone smiling and laughing and eating and having a good time all together, acting so _Italian_...that gave him the best feeling of love and pride he could ever experience.

When all the food was eaten and all the dishes were cleaned and all the guests and children were in bed, Feliciano took his husband into his studio to see his latest work. "It's not done yet," he began, showing off the canvas, "but I like how it's coming along, ve."

Ludwig observed the half-full canvas and smiled. "I like it. I like the colors."

Feliciano smiled. "It was inspired by Hetalia Academy."

"Really? How so?"

"Because Hetalia Academy was almost like having world peace! Kids from all corners of the world came together and _got along!_ It was wonderful."

Ludwig nodded. "Oh, I see," he said, pointing to the canvas. "It's got the colors of the earth, but they're brighter than usual."

The Italian grinned. "And I'm going to add even more bright colors! So it's even happier!"

The German looked down at his short husband and smiled. "Are you happy, Feli? Because I'm happy. _Sono felice._"

Feliciano didn't respond at first. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck and kissed him deeply, standing on his tiptoes to reach him. They stood there in the studio for what felt like hours, basking in the sweet silence and the love between them. When Feliciano pulled away, he looked into his husband's beautiful, blue eyes and smiled.

"_Ich bin sehr glücklich. _I'm _very_ happy."

Kiss.

_"Ti amo, Feli."_

_"Ich liebe dich, Ludwig."_

END

Author's Note: The next chapter is the CD booklet, the finale.

And don't forget to go to my profile to vote for your top five favorites of the original seventeen tracks!


	25. CD Booklet

**Author's Note:** Gakuen Hetalia. The Finale.

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**CD Booklet**

He didn't want to open his eyes, but his nap was over, and it was time for him to wake up. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes with his little fists. Yawning, he sat up in his bed, tiny and cozy, perfect for a little boy of five years. His room was bright, sunlight managing to stream in through the blinds covering the windows. He frowned and looked to his bedroom door.

"Daddy?" he called, somewhat quietly. He began to feel a bit sad when he didn't receive a response. Normally, his daddy or his mommy would come get him when his nap was over, so he worried. He pushed the sheets off his little body and stood, a bit nervous to leave. What if his daddy was on his way? "Daddy..." he repeated as he slowly walked out of his bedroom and headed down the hallway.

There was only one place his daddy would be, and there would only be one thing he would be doing. The little boy quietly stood outside his daddy's office, peeking through the cracked open door. Sure enough, his daddy was sitting at his desk, typing away at his laptop, staring intently at the screen. The determined, focused look on his face made the little boy smile. He didn't want to interrupt his daddy, but he wanted his attention so badly...

"Daddy..."

Gilbert looked up and a huge smile spread across his face. "Hey, little guy!" the proud father greeted, standing up from his desk. He knelt down in front of his son and swept him up into a hug, rubbing their cheeks together and pressing kisses to his temple. He grinned at the giggles that erupted from his son and straightened himself, his son still in his arms. "How's my awesome little Fritz?" he asked, his grin softening as the child snuggled into his father's embrace.

Fritz was hesitant to reply at first. "You didn't come get me when my nap was over..."

"Aw, I'm sorry," Gilbert replied quietly, kissing his son's head again. "I was working. I lost track of time." He smiled and carried his son to his desk. "Wanna see?"

The little boy stared at the computer screen, eyes wide and curious. He nodded. "Are you bu...brog...bloo...?"

"'Blogging'," Gilbert explained, smiling at his son's adorable attempt at the word. "Uh-huh. Daddy's awesome blog makes money because lots of people read it. Plus, Daddy makes money from his day job. That's why we have all the nice things we do." The pride and arrogance in his voice was obvious, but Fritz was too young to hear it. Besides, to him, everything his daddy did was awesome, because his daddy was the most awesome daddy ever.

Knowing this made Gilbert even prouder. He loved himself, yes, but he loved his wife and his little boy more. When the rest of his family, especially Ludwig, realized this, they didn't think it was possible. Gilbert loved himself more than anything...or so they had thought. The fact that he loved Katy and his little Frederick more blew everyone's mind. How was it possible for any one man to have that much love in him?

It wasn't a big deal to Gilbert. Marrying Katy had been the best decision of his life. He didn't even care that she was related to Ivan, whom he had despised throughout most of his high school career. They had even started getting along after he and Katy had gotten engaged. And the wedding, of course, was beautiful. He thought he had looked pretty awesome in his tux, but Katy had taken his breath away in her gorgeous, white dress, and that was rare for Gilbert. His eyes glanced at one of their wedding photos sitting on his desk, and his grin widened.

Then he looked down at the little treasure sitting in his lap, and his mind flashed back to the day his darling son had been born. The moment the doctor had announced that Gilbert and Katy were the parents of a healthy boy, something had gone off inside him. It was an incredible feeling, one he would never be able to explain. It was an odd mixture of pride, happiness, anxiety, disbelief, and overwhelming love. It only impossibly grew when he had finally held his son.

_The room was quiet, Katy lying in the hospital bed and resting her eyes while Gilbert sat next to her, holding their son. He hadn't been able to stop looking at him since he had been born mere hours ago. In that time, he had noticed many little details about him, the way his eyelids twitched as he slept, the way his chest rose with each small breath, the way the little hat on his little head made his chubby cheeks appear even bigger...It was all so amazing. Awesome...his son was the most awesome person who ever lived and would ever live. He was convinced._

_"We're gonna have so much fun," he whispered against his son's forehead. "Your mommy and I are going to teach you so many things, and we'll do so many cool things together. But you don't need any lessons in being awesome; you've already mastered that." He grinned excitedly and snickered a bit. "Roddy's gonna be so jealous. His kid won't even come close to you."_

_"Gilbert?"_

_The albino looked over at the bed and smiled. "Good morning, babe," he greeted his wife, standing. Leaning over while keeping a tight hold on his son, he pressed a kiss to Katy's forehead. "How do you feel?"_

_Katy smiled gently. "Tired still but also really happy. I don't think I can sleep even though I really want to."_

_"Heh, I know the feeling," Gilbert replied, kissing her forehead again. "All of a sudden, reality is so much better than dreams." He straightened up and rocked his son a bit, who was whimpering from the sudden movement. He quickly calmed down though, and the room became quiet again until Gilbert spoke. "He needs a name, but we never discussed them..." He looked over at his wife. "What kind of name do you want to give him? Ukrainian?"_

_Katy shook her head. "No, I want to give him a German name."_

_Gilbert shrugged. "You can name him whatever you want. You've known him longer than I have." He winked and grinned, getting a giggle out of his wife._

_"Yes, I suppose so," she agreed, nodding. "And I already know what to name him."_

_The new father's grin widened. "Really? Awesome! What?"_

_"Frederick."_

_Gilbert's grin disappeared and a look of shock washed over his face, which had gone even paler than usual, if that was possible. He stared at his wife for a few long seconds and then looked back down at his son, who was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of his father's complete mood change._

_It took about another minute for Gilbert to find his voice. "...Really?"_

_Katy nodded. "It was Sam's idea."_

_"My awesome niece?"_

_Katy nodded again._

_The room was quiet again for a long time, until Katy heard whimpering. This time, it wasn't her son. Gilbert sat down in the chair next to her hospital bed and rocked his son again keeping his head down. Katy watched as little tears dripped down onto the blanket keeping her child warm and snug, and she felt her heart break._

_"We don't have to-!"_

_"It's perfect."_

_Katy's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"_

_Gilbert nodded. "It's perfect. Too perfect. It's the only name that could ever fit someone so awesome." He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Someone way more awesome than I could ever be..."_

_"Gilbert darling..."_

_"He's really gone." The albino looked back at his wife, tears now freely falling down his cheeks. "The old man is really dead. Why...?" Pause. "Why did h-he h-ha...ve to...?"_

_Breakdown._

_Gilbert shook violently as the gates holding back all his emotions burst open. Sorrow and pain and regret took over, and he found himself suddenly scared that he would drop his son. Quickly placing him in his mother's arms, his hands immediately went to his eyes in a futile attempt to dry them. He didn't even try to make an excuse. What was the point? This was one reality he couldn't ignore._

_Katy watched her husband sob and felt her heart clench. Tears formed in the corners of her own eyes, but she didn't bother trying to brush them away. She hadn't expected this. She felt awful, especially when she looked down at her son, who was blissfully unaware of the sadness around him. Somehow, that made her happy, to know that he didn't know._

_"I'm just too damn happy," she suddenly heard Gilbert pant out. "Too happy and too sad at the same time. One life ends...and another one begins." He looked at his son and smiled, despite the tears still running down his cheeks. "He wouldn't want me to be crying like this. Crying isn't awesome. Heh, I told him that all the time whenever I was upset in college. Or whenever he was upset. Now it's coming back to bite me in the ass. How ironic." Slowly, a grin formed again. "Besides, he's gotta be watching over us now, right?"_

_Seeing her husband find joy again made Katy smile as well. She nodded and finally wiped her eyes, reaching one hand over to Gilbert. He took it and kissed it, standing and leaning over his wife, kissing her soft lips lovingly. When they pulled apart, they heard soft whimper from their son. Slowly, the little boy blinked his eyes open for the first time._

_Gilbert was speechless at first but then grinned stupidly. "How not awesome," he commented. "His first image of his awesome mommy and daddy is the two of them crying like idiots."_

_Katy couldn't help but laugh. "Well," she sighed, "we'll just have to give him plenty more images of us smiling and laughing like idiots."_

_Gilbert nodded. "Definitely." He turned to his little boy and found himself lost in the child's muddy, blue eyes. "Right, Frederick Beilschmidt? Little Fritz?"_

"Daddy?"

Gilbert snapped out of his memory and looked down at his son, who was looking up at him curiously. The albino smiled. "I'm here."

"When is Mommy coming home?"

Gilbert glanced at his watch. "Probably in another hour or so."

"Oh..."

"Hmm? What?"

"Will you play with me until she gets home?"

Gilbert glanced at his laptop. He still had lots of work to do, as he hadn't updated his blog in a while. He needed to finish the new entry. Smiling, he looked back down at his son. "I have to work for a little while longer. Why don't you bring some of your toys in here and play? When I'm all done, I'll play with you."

Fritz nodded. "Okay." He hopped down from his father's lap and ran back into his room, reappearing in the office a few seconds later with some of his favorite toys. He didn't see the stowaway on his head.

Gilbert laughed. "Hey, little guy, you've got a friend there."

"Huh?" Fritz looked up and soon saw a yellow chick fly down into his lap. "Aw, hi, Gilbird!" he squealed. "Will you play with me?" He giggled when the little bird chirped and fluttered about, soon settling on Fritz's stuffed bunny.

Gilbert smiled at the scene and went back to work.

But, although little Fritz was a very well-behaved child, he was still a child, and, thus, he bored easily. Without someone to play with, he saw no point in his toys. It wasn't like Gilbird could play with his soldier toys or use his crayons in his coloring book. Sighing, he glanced back at his daddy, who was still typing at his laptop. When he looked back at his toys, something caught his eye. It was a box sitting next to a shelving unit in the corner. Fritz crawled over to it and opened it, marveling at its contents.

"What have you found?"

Fritz turned around to see his daddy get up from his desk and walk over to him. He pointed to the box. "What is this stuff, Daddy?"

Gilbert grinned and sat down on the floor behind his son, pulling the little boy into his lap. "This is Daddy's awesome box of memories and favorite things. Look at all this awesome stuff! A lot of it is from when I was in high school and college." He picked up an envelope containing a short letter. "See this? This was the first love letter I ever wrote to Mommy." He then picked up a pair of broken glasses. "And these were the first pair of Roddy's glasses I ever broke! Aw man, that was a good day."

Fritz looked up at his father and smiled. "Can I have another play date with Zak soon?"

Gilbert kept smiling even though he really wanted to roll his eyes. Someone, in a horribly twisted way, his son and Roderich's son Zachary (who preferred to be called "Zak") had become very close friends, neither one really wanting to compete with the other. It confused both fathers immensely, especially Roderich, whose son actually had a very competitive, outgoing personality. In fact, Zak acted much more like Gilbert than Fritz did, and Fritz acted very much like Roderich. Once, Gilbert had written a blog post about this strange phenomenon and titled it "Life's Great Mysteries."

Regardless, he couldn't refuse a request from his awesome son. "We'll call Roddy and Liz sometime soon and set something up. Maybe we'll spend a long weekend in Austria sometime. But let's not think about that now, okay?" He grinned convincingly.

Fritz nodded and pulled a toy out of the box. "Daddy, why do you have a pony toy in here?"

Gilbert snatched the toy from his son's hand. "Let's not think about that either, okay?" he laughed nervously. "Besides, there's way more awesome stuff in here." _Damn you, Feliks. Damn you and your stupid, awesome pony show..._ "Like these!" He pulled three CD cases out of the box. "These are Lady Gaga's first three CDs! She makes the most awesome music ever, seriously. I'll teach you the dance to 'Bad Romance' one of these days. I performed it a few times in high school with Uncle Antonio and Uncle Francis."

Fritz looked at the CD cases curiously. "Can I see, Daddy?" He took _Born This Way_ in his little hands when he received a nod from his daddy and opened it. He stared at the strange, circular object inside. "This is music?"

Gilbert laughed. "That's how we used to have to listen to music." He laughed harder when his son looked up at him as if he were crazy. "Look, there are booklets here, too, with the song lyrics and information about Miss Gaga. Wanna see?" He took the CD booklet out of the case and opened it up, reading some of the lyrics aloud to his son.

(Separate notes begin here.)

Single/Track 2: Joan of Arc performs "Born This Way"

Do you remember when Gaga won for Video of the Year at the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards for "Bad Romance?" She sand that one part of "Born This Way." "I'm beautiful in my way, 'cuz God makes no mistakes. I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way." As soon as I heard it, my mind was flooded with historical images of Joan of Arc. All kinds of images. Images of her fighting, winning, losing, receiving messages from God, being captures and locked up, and being burned at the stake. I have no idea where they came from, but I couldn't ignore them. Luckily, Joan has appeared several times in Hetalia. She had to be this song's performer, the perfect opener for the new album. I see Joan as not just a great historical figure but also as a strong, confident role model for women. To me, she proves that what is thought of as impossible can be done.

As far as connections to the song go, I think there are actually a lot of them. The point of the song is to assure all people, regardless of who they are and/or what they are, that they are okay just the way they are. The people who hate them simply don't understand them. The people of Joan's time did not understand what she was trying to do or what she had understood to be her mission, so they feared her. Additionally, King Charles (VII) had abandoned her, causing everyone else who had once believed in her to abandon her. This kind of thing still happens today. Just look at some politicians. They tell us to fear hate people who are different and, somehow, gain massive hoards of people to follow them. How sad. Joan, able to have Divine visions, was different. She was, therefore, a threat to society. Sounds a lot like what happens today.

Another interesting point I'd like to make is that many historians question Joan's sexuality. She often dressed as a man, and she never had a real relationship with anyone. Whether this was for the sake of her mission or if it was part of herself as a person is up for debate. Just something to think about. You can check out just about any website about LGBT historical figures, and chances are good she'll probably be listed there.

Plus, I had to make this first single from the Born This Way album Joan's based on the date. Born This Way was released on May 23, 2011. Joan was captured on May 23, 1430. Interesting...

Track 1: Frederick the Great performs "Marry the Night"

Speaking of LGBT historical figures. XD Well, first, to start, I came up with the Three Rules thinking they'd only apply to this track. I never thought I'd end up using them throughout the other tracks.

Anyway.

_"Nothing's too cool to take me from you."_

This was the line out of the song that made me decide to make Fritz the performer. It's no secret that he preferred French culture to Prussian culture (which was why I focused so intently on it for this track's remix), so I thought that this line said a lot as far as the relationship he would have with Prussia in the series. The other thing is that, for this album, when I was deciding on performers for the other tracks after the "Born This Way" and "Judas" singles, I listened to the entire album for the first time and made a conscious effort not to assign any performers until I could listen to it a second time. That way, I would know all the songs before assigning anybody. Not this case with this song. Much like with "Born This Way," as I was listening to this song, my mind was flooded with images of Fritz. I swear, these historical figures won't leave me alone. XD

As far as the history goes, a lot of it is basic knowledge for Hetalia fans. Fritz's father Frederick William pretty much hated his son because they were so different. Frederick William liked war and didn't care for anything like music, poetry, art, or philosophy, which was what Fritz liked even as a child. Frederick William was also known for beating anyone who dared to disagree him (except his wife), so Fritz got beat up a lot. He was also known for being rather cruel to anyone who even thought of betraying him. When Fritz tried to escape Prussia with his friend Katte, it was considered treason since he was a royal. Frederick William, however, couldn't bestow a political punishment, which was why he forced his son to watch Katte's execution. Supposedly, right when Katte was about to die, Fritz apologized for everything, and Katte replied, "My Prince, you have nothing to apologize for." Now tell me that isn't a scene straight out of an anime. XD (I first heard this story at the Hetalia History panel at AnimeNEXT 2010, and the whole room went, "AWWWWWW!" Now I wanna see a Hetalia spin-off of just the historical figures, like an anime version of historical documentaries. That would be AWESOME.)

As far as the relationship between Fritz and Prussia goes, I think it's all too obvious. Prussia is obsessed with the old man in the series (which is why I'm so upset he hasn't appeared in the anime yet, especially since Maria Theresa has appeared). Historically, one of Fritz's most famous quotes is, "I am the First Servant of my State." It's also my headcanon that Prussia is extremely jealous of Voltaire and that the philosopher would constantly take Fritz's attention away from Prussia. Prussia, also, as we all know, is a horribly stubborn, greedy bastard who wants what he wants when he wants it. So I feel like those feelings of jealousy would follow him throughout his life, even after both Fritz and Voltaire died. I admit that I played up this couple a lot because I really love it and think it's historically accurate in a way. Plus, if nothing else, I now have a huge historical crush on Frederick the Great because of Hetalia. One of my prized possessions is a book published in the 19th century I got at an antique shop near my college that dedicates a whole, very long chapter to him. He's also one of my next cosplay projects. XD

And I'll leave it up to your imaginations to decide who was on top during the "marry the night" scene. ;D

Track 3: China performs "Government Hooker"

I wrote this track while taking a course called "Orientalism, Occidentalism, and Chinese Culture" at college. I was inspired by my studies in that class, especially when the class discussed modern relations between the US and China. I think that the US often unfairly demonizes China, but I don't want to get too much into politics here. What I wanted to do was apply the title of the song in a literal way, because the nations are people in Hetalia. After all, the relationship between a nation and its government can sometimes be very much like the relationship between a hooker and a regular client, and the roles can be reversed easily.

But the point overall wasn't to say that one nation is right or wrong or that we're all a bunch of whores or anything like that. The point was really that we need to understand each other before we jump to conclusions and that any words anyone can say can turn around and bit that person in the ass. So we should all be careful of what we say and what we call people. We never know when we'll fit the description.

Track 4: Chibitalia performs "Judas"

I think that this track is really self-explanatory, probably because it was the first track in Born This Hetalian Way to continue the Gakuen Hetalia/"Bad Romance" timeline. I broke up the story on purpose when I first wrote it as a single because I wanted to be sure that I would be able to continue the plot with some other tracks from the album. Once I was sure that I could, I wrote the omake at the end and established the metaphor for Judas, Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and The Apostles (and that's seriously all this song is: A METAPHOR) from the music video.

I had also been entertaining the idea of making this timeline a bit more dramatic with a Ludwig/Feliciano breakup for a while. I think it added something interesting to the plot and more of a high school-like feel to the timeline.

I also made Chibitalia the performer for this track just so I could write the flashback story for the remix, I swear.

Track 5: Tony performs "Americano"

Did I know that anything I wrote would end up being somewhat controversial? Yes. I did it anyway.

In the recent years, I've grown to enjoy keeping track of politics, mostly in the US but also in many other parts of the world. Thus, I've had the chance to study and observe the things that come with politics, such as social and economic policies. I have my own opinions about them, and I encourage everyone to form opinions about them, too.

That said, with this track, I'm not saying that I'm write. This track was meant to be a warning to all that this is what we could become and that this is what others will associate with us. There are people who hate homosexuals and immigrants and the poor, yes, but there are also plenty of people who love and accept and want to help everyone. Unfortunately, when people visit the US (or any country really), what tends to stand out in their minds are the bad things they see there. When we see bad things happen, we immediately generalize them to apply to all, and we can't help it. Therefore, when someone asks us what a place was like, the bad things tend to stick out in our minds the most, even if plenty of other good things happened. The good things are just quieter and harder to spot sometimes. So I hope that the people who want to do good will keep doing good. It's our responsibility as people to fight for what we believe is right and fight harder and louder than the people who want to do harm. Fight for what's good and show the rest of the world how wonderfully amazing your country is! I used Tony to illustrate this because he, while associated with America, is not an American or even a human. He's a blank slate to fill with whatever the people put out into the world.

Track 6: Egypt perform "Hair"

I felt a little odd writing about an event that happened so recently (and, in a sense, is still happening). But I felt like the message in the song fit what Egypt would feel like, or what any country would feel like, fighting for its freedom. The line "free as my hair" stuck out to me because, even though we try to tame it, we technically have no control over our hair. We can't control how quickly/slowly it grows, what color it is when it grows, and if it disappears. We can't even permanently control its styling. Yet we try to all the time. We try to keep complete control over it, but it always manages to slip away and defy us. That's what the song means to me, again, something of a metaphor. No matter how much a leader tries to keep hold on a nation, the nation will eventually break away and do what it wants to do. Applying this to Egypt's situation, the line that stuck out to me the most was "I've had enough." I think it spells out the general feeling whenever there's any kind of revolution.

Track 7: Austria performs "Scheiße"

I really wanted to write a Nyotalia track, but none of the tracks really worked with that concept. By then, I had already assigned a lot of performers that I didn't want to change. So I decided to write about feminism, a topic very near and dear to my heart. Living with a rather sexist, misogynistic relative, I've developed this need to express my frustrations and anger. This track was both a way for me to do that as well as a way to continue the "Dance in the Dark" timeline. Feminist!Hungary is probably my favorite creation out of these stories (along with Troll!Fritz but more on that later). I think she's a strong character in Hetalia, definitely the strongest of the female characters and able to compete (and win against) many of the male characters.

Austria is also a very interesting character to me, just in general. Probably more than any other male character, I'd like to see his Nyotalia character animated. I sent him back to the War of the Austrian Succession because, other than World War II, it's the war most associated with Hetalia, especially with Austria himself. It was also the first war Austria fought with Maria Theresa, one of the most famous female rulers in all of history. She's an idol of mine as well. I think that a lot of history changed when she came to power. If she had never taken the throne, the fate of the Holy Roman Empire and Austria would have been very different. Modern history would have probably changed as well.

The main point of this track was mostly to point out that, despite the hundreds of years of women fighting for their rights and respect, they still have to deal with obstacles. There is still Scheiße in the world, regardless of how many things have changed. Times are better for women now than they were even just fifty years ago, yes, but sexism still exists. Women are still believed to be not as smart, not as strong, and not as reliable as men. They still make less money than men do, even though they perform many of the same jobs. They are still expected to take care of children and clean their homes and cook for their families regardless of whether or not they have jobs outside the home. Most commercials depict women as either housewives or sex objects, as if to say they can be one or the other and nothing else. I could go on and on. Overall, all this Scheiße still exists, and that alone is wrong.

As a side note, "Scheiße" is my favorite swear word. XD

Track 8: Vietnam performs "Bloody Mary"

This was hard to write. Vietnam is my favorite of the female nations in Hetalia, and I love the country itself, too. I wanted to write a story about her feelings during her civil war/war with America. So, again, this wasn't meant to be a political statement or a track dedicated to demonizing America. I mostly wanted to see if I could write a track from another character's point of view on a controversial war that is still debated today. I think that the track mellowed out in the end though. After all, Vietnam and America are friends by the end.

The idea of the doppelgänger also fascinates me. It's both terrifying and like something out of a horror movie while still being realistic for the nations. To be honest, the doppelgänger thing scared me, and I was the one writing the story! Since I paid so much attention to America's in "Teeth," I wanted to show another one off. I knew I had to connect this track directly with "Teeth" because of the line, "I'll tell them my religion is you." In "Teeth," the line is "Got no religion. My religion is you." These lines were actually what made me decide to assign Vietnam as the performer and connect her story to America's. Believe it or not, this track was originally going to be assigned to Bulgaria and was going to be a side story to go along with "Poker Face." But I'm glad I changed my mind in the end. I like the final version better.

Track 9: Latvia performs "Black Jesus + Amen Fashion"

Woo, back in Gakuen Hetalia! This track was so much fun to write; it was a great mood-lifter after the more dramatic tracks like "Scheiße" and "Bloody Mary." I had also forgotten how much fun it is to write Feliks's dialogue. It's so damn fabulous. The sock drawer scene was also a ton of fun. The explanation as to why Feliks looked through the sock drawer was actually inspired by a conversation I had with a friend about sock drawers once when I was a kid. Weird, I know. I also loved writing the scene where Raivis finally confronts Ivan about his bullying. I imagine Raivis pretending to walk the runway while making his way down the hallway. The line "Changing something about yourself is as easy as changing your clothes" was inspired by what Gaga herself wrote about the track. The makeover was inspired by one of my favorite makeover TV shows, _What Not to Wear._ I know that I always feel better about myself when I'm wearing clothes that fit and make me look good. It's basic psychology actually. When we look good, we feel good. Our confidence and self-esteem both rise. That was why Raivis was able to confront both Ivan and Ludwig in this track.

I was also just really happy to FINALLY write a track where Russia/Ivan wasn't demonized and made the villain. You have no idea.

Track 10: Australia performs "Bad Kids"

This was a really simple, really self-explanatory track, but I think it was appropriate for the song, because the message of the song is really simple and self-explanatory. I assigned Australia to this song because it's my headcanon that he made England's life hell while living under his rule. I imagine him as your typical poorly-behaved child who always defied his parent and did everything he could to make him angry. It's also my headcanon that Australia is a prankster who loves to see people frightened and frustrated. I feel like he'd never grow out of it, too.

The idea of Australia being a bad kid is also somewhat historically accurate. After all, the country was built with the criminals and convicts of Europe.

Track 11: Turkey performs "Fashion of His Love"

So much fun to write! I was excited to find a way to use some of the newer manga strips in at least one of the tracks (Turkey going on about the tourist shop goods). Plus, I love writing the descriptions for the outfits in this "Telephone" timeline. I usually ended up Googling images of Visual Kei fashion throughout the tracks, taking my favorite pieces, and adapting them to the characters. The coat Turkey buys was inspired by a coat I once saw in a lolita magazine that I just...Oh, my God, I want it so badly. Even though I'd never have a reason to wear it. XD Japan always ended up looking really androgynous. He is something of an androgynous character, and Visual Kei has a reputation for making people look so, but I always got this image in my mind of him being especially pretty throughout this timeline. That was probably why I gave him the stripper look in this track. XD

I sort of love how the whole "island nation" thing became the marker for "Telephone" timeline tracks. XD

Of course, this track is for Alexander McQueen. I was able to see the exhibit featuring his clothes and accessories in the Metropolitan Museum of Art over the summer, and I had the most amazing time. I love fashion in general, but his fashions are so full of passion. They're art! They provided some of the inspiration for this track, as many of his clothes Gaga has worn were featured.

Track 12: Iceland performs "Highway Unicorn (Road to Love)"

It was hard to go back to writing about something dramatic, but I wanted to write something that illustrates what it was like for the Nordics after Denmark nearly drank himself to death. It was kind of a blank spot in the timeline up until this track. Keeping with the Nordic theme, I went with Iceland (Norway had already been decided for "The Edge of Glory."). I think it worked in a way. Iceland is the Nordic that is often left in the background, the odd one out, so to speak. He's overshadowed by the popular couplings of Sweden/Finland and Denmark/Norway. Giving him a little time to shine was my goal, but I also wanted to keep him in his supporting role for Norway, since he (other than Denmark) is the Nordic closest to Norway. I also imagine neon lights against a pitch black background whenever I hear this song, which reminded me of the Northern Lights, visible in Iceland the most during the winter, when the sun never rises. Additionally, unicorns are magical creatures. While Iceland doesn't have the ability to see/communicate with magical creatures the way Norway can, Iceland the country is still famous for its stories about fairies, elves, and other magical creatures.

This track was also inspired by my cosplay experiences. I'm a Norway cosplayer, and I met many other wonderful Nordic cosplayers at AnimeNEXT 2011. An Iceland cosplayer and I became really close, and I mock-married a Denmark cosplayer with the Iceland cosplayer as the official. Awesome, I know. XD

Track 13: Maria Theresa performs "Heavy Metal Lover"

CRACK. SO MUCH HISTORICAL CRACK. EVERYWHERE. I LOVE IT. XD

Troll!Fritz is probably my favorite creation out of this series. The thought of him trolling Maria Theresa (and sometimes Prussia) amuses me to no end. I wanna write more troll!Fritz in my future Hetalia fanfics.

In all seriousness, I love historical crack. It's probably my favorite kind of Hetalia fanfiction. Yet I had never written it...until I wrote this track! Here's a request from me, guys: Write more historical crack. Please?

It's also my headcanon that Hungary got her first frying pan from Maria Theresa.

This song also contains what is probably my most favorite line out of any songs I've ever heard:

_"I could be your girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, but would you love me if I ruled the world, world, world?"_

This line is actually very relevant to Maria Theresa. A common saying for the Hapsburgs was "It is Austria's destiny to rule the world" (roughly translated from German). When Maria Theresa came to power, she embraced this idea fully and did not allow her husband, Francis Stephen, to take any power away from her. It's even been said that the Hungarians embraced her as if she were male, addressing her as their King. Francis Stephen was not faithful to Maria Theresa, but it's been said that she didn't care. Why should she have? She was the one ruling the most powerful empire the world at the time.

Track 14: Liechtenstein performs "Electric Chapel"

I loved writing dialogue for Liechtenstein. She's so cute. I also loved giving her a moment in the spotlight, letting her personality develop. I think she's got a spunky, rebellious side to her. She was originally going to be taking electric guitar lessons (a nod to the prominent electric guitar in the song) when she spotted Ludwig, but I changed it to make her more in-character. Disobeying her older brother was enough to show off that side of her. ;)

Admittedly, I made the guidance counselor a total dick because I've had nothing but horrible experiences with guidance counselors throughout the entire time I've been in school. Every single one I've ever had has given me awful advice and has never truly been interested in helping me. My high school guidance counselor even shirked her responsibilities when it came to sending out college applications for me, so I almost didn't get into college because of her. So I've kinda developed this dislike for guidance counselors that I should really get over...

Track 15: Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt perform "The Queen" (as one)

I didn't introduce these two at the beginning of "Judas" for nothing! Back then, I hoped there would be a track that I could assign them. I'm so glad I got the special edition of the album.

Coming up with personalities for these two was a lot of fun. I see Ancient Greece as calm, peaceful, thoughtful, and loving while Ancient Egypt is loud, fun, confident, and outgoing. These personalities were based on what the two ancient civilizations are best known for. Ancient Greece gave us philosophy and democracy (among other things) while Ancient Egyptians created art and architecture (again, among other things). I also imagine Mama Greece to be very caring and doting towards her son, while Mama Egypt is the exact opposite of her son. It amuses me. :)

Track 16: Prussia performs "Yoü and I"

My God...where the hell do I begin?

First of all, I'm stunned that so many of you embraced the Prussia/Ukraine pairing. I was so sure I would get negative reviews for this pairing, so I'm really happy that you guys liked it!

Like I said at the beginning of the track, I had been waiting over a year to write this track, ever since I had seen Gaga perform the song for the first time on The Today Show. I was immediately inspired. I knew what I wanted to write about. The song screamed "PRUSSIA" to me. I couldn't ignore it. That's why the track is so long: I had a ton of time to think about it, plan it, and coordinate it with other tracks. My mind ran wild whenever I thought about this song. Images of Prussia and all the other characters connected to him would race through my mind. They still do. In fact, I see even more images now that the music video for this song is out. If the music video had been released before I wrote this track, the track probably would have been even longer.

I find Prussia to be a really fascinating character in Hetalia. He doesn't exist in the modern day, so we have to look to history to get an idea of what his country was like. He's also the most human of the nation characters, in my opinion. He has flaws and real human emotions. It's not to say that the other nation characters don't, but they are just so much more obvious and prevalent in Prussia. At the same time, the fact that he is a nation character makes him appealing to us, especially because he doesn't exist anymore. He's caught in an awkward balance, and we can't get enough of him. I like the idea of him becoming East Germany/East Berlin after he's dissolved. Technically, Germany wasn't split up until a few years after Prussia's dissolution, but I changed that to fit the story. But that was also why I added his "identity crisis" scene. Prussia is a very proud, very arrogant character. If he had to change his identity and accept the fact that his old self no longer exists...I think it would be very painful for him.

I also think that Prussia is the kind of character who wants to know that he's needed, which explains why I made him act the way he does in the track, up until the end. If he thought that no one needed him, he wouldn't be able to find a reason to continue to live. A lot of that idea came from me starting to move out of my parents' home. I'll be graduating from college in the summer of 2012, and I'm going to be working/moving out soon afterwards (hopefully). While I won't need my parents around constantly, I'll still need them to be in my life. That was the model for the relationship between Prussia and Germany.

It's also my headcanon that Prussia loves children, which is why he constantly thinks about Germany as a child in this track.

I was really happy to finally reveal the truth behind Russia's personality as the Soviet Union. Did anyone see that one coming?

I also love the idea of Fritz watching over Prussia as a kind of guardian angel. It's sweet, especially because I love the pairing too much to let it disappear entirely.

There's another scene I want to point out specifically. The paintings in the basement. During the time the Wall was up, art exploded on both sides. It became a way for the people to express their frustrations and pain. Plus, art is also a great way to communicate in general. I'm probably a little biased here since I study art history at college, but I think that Germany would turn to art to express himself if he ever couldn't speak, specifically in the 20th century because of all the turmoil his country went through. The walls being covered in his art, however, was inspired by a scene from the Berlin episode of _Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations_ on the Travel Channel. Check it out, it's awesome. Like Prussia.

This is my favorite song on the album, and this turned out to be my favorite track in the story. I loved writing it, and I love looking over it. I hope you all loved it, too.

Track 17: Norway performs "The Edge of Glory"

The sound of falling snow is one of my favorite sounds ever.

The track was inspired, again, by my experiences cosplaying Norway. I've sung many an Alexander Rybak song in costume. XD

I think that this track speaks for itself though. The fairy tale had a happy ending.

This track is for my great-grandmother, my grammy, who died in January 2011. She was the first person on that side of the family to be born in the US, while everyone before her had been born in Norway. Her family, my family, lived in Bergen before coming to the US one hundred years ago. She shared her love for her country with me. I learned everything I know about Norway from her, and I love my ancestral home country, thanks to her. All this led me to be a Norway cosplayer in the first place. But I'm also just a girl from New Jersey, which is why this track is also for Clarence Clemons. "The Edge of Glory" was the last project he ever worked on before he died. He was a member of New Jersey's E Street Band with Bruce Springsteen, arguably the most famous singer to come out of the Garden State. Gaga brought these two worlds together when she recorded the song in Norway. When I found out, I cried. I was so happy, too happy. My two favorite places, my two homes, were brought together in the best way possible.

Remixes

I don't have a lot of commentary for the remixes. I mostly wrote these as extra stories to enhance the originals ("Judas" and "Scheiße") or continuing epilogues for the originals whose stories I just couldn't get out of my head ("Marry the Night" and "Fashion of His Love"). I hope they added a little something to your reading pleasure.

And I hope you enjoyed reading this story overall.

(Separate notes end.)

Little Fritz smiled. "I like it, Daddy," he murmured, leaning back against his daddy's chest. "Can I listen to the songs?"

Gilbert nodded and closed the CD booklet. "Sure," he agreed, nodding and kissing the top of his son's head. "In fact, I want you to. This CD is the reason Uncle West and Uncle Feli are married."

"Huh?"

"Heh, I'll explain it to you when you're older."

Fritz sighed. "Okay," he reluctantly agreed, slight disappointment evident in his voice. It took everything Gilbert had not to laugh. Smiling, he watched his son turn around in his lap. "Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"I wanna make music."

The statement surprised Gilbert a little bit, but he could understand why his son would want to do so. He had probably been inspired by the lyrics he had just heard. "Alright," Gilbert replied, nodding. "How? Do you wanna learn how to sing?"

Fritz shook his head. "I wanna play an instrument."

Gilbert considered this. "It takes a lot of practice to play an instrument," he warned. "Are you sure?"

Fritz nodded. "I'll practice really hard. I wanna make music, too!"

The albino grinned. "Okay!" he cheered. "Your birthday is coming up anyway. Mommy and I will get you an instrument. We should check out what instruments are out there so you can decide which one you li-!"

"I want to play the flute."

A stunned silence immediately followed, but it was short-lived. The front door opened. "Hello!" Katy called. "I'm home!"

"Mommy!" Fritz squealed, jumping up from his daddy's lap and running to the front door, Gilbird chirping loudly as he followed behind. Gilbert wasn't so quick to get up. He sat there, on the floor, totally quiet, with a look of awe on his face. He barely even reacted when he heard his son greet his wife, the two laughing together.

No, instead, he slowly stood and looked back at his desk. One of the photos was of him and the old man on the day he had graduated from university. The two looked so happy together, both smiling brightly for the camera, celebrating the moment. That had been a wonderful day, a wonderful time when everything in the world seemed so perfect. He smiled sadly, knowingly.

"You're still here, aren't you?"

"Gilbert?"

The albino turned back to the doorway to his office, still smiling. Katy smiled back at him, their son in her arms. Gilbert stole a glance at the little boy and then went to his wife, welcoming her back home with a kiss.

"Welcome home," he whispered. "I love you."

Katy smiled back. "I love you, too."

Fritz snuggled up between his parents. "I love you guys, too..."

They both looked down at the little boy. Katy hugged him close, and Gilbert wrapped his arms around the both of them. He heard Gilbird chirp again, flying up to rest in his hair. He smiled to himself, basking in the moment with the people he loved the most. Nothing could be better.

_Sorry, West,_ he thought, _your life is great and everything, and I'm sure you're super happy with Feli, Sam, and Anthony, but my life is way more awesome._

_So awesome..._

THE END

And that's all.

I hope you guys have enjoyed. I've had the time of my life writing these stories, and I hope you've had fun reading them. If I changed your headcanon or taught you something, that's wonderful. If I made you laugh and/or cry, that's also wonderful. But, more than anything, I hope that I've entertained you, at least for a little while.

Thank you all so much for reading. You can still vote for your favorite track in my profile.

Until my next fanfic, I wish you all peace, love, anime, fanfiction, history, and fame.

May Mother Monster watch over you and keep you safe.

-Gothic Dancer


	26. EXTRA: Stuck on Fin You

**Author's Note: **Hi, Everyone! Did you miss me? I missed you. Life hasn't been the same since my Hetalia/Gaga series ended. I miss it terribly. That was why I was super excited when Gaga released this special track on Twitter! For those of you who don't know, this track was supposed to be on Born This Way but was scrapped. She released it as a Christmas present to Little Monsters on Twitter. So...why did it take me so long to write something? Well, life got in the way, for starters. Additionally, I couldn't really decide on what I wanted to write about until recently. The Christmas event on LiveJournal was definitely inspiring, along with some research I did on my own part, both for school and for fun. So I hope that you enjoy this extra track here. Consider it a late present from me. :)

**Title: Born This Hetalian Way**

**Extra: Stuck on F***in' You**

**I was born to stick with you.**

They had made a promise, and, even though he was terrified of the crumbling castle before him, there was no way Bulgaria was going back on his word. Romania meant too much to him as a friend, even though they had had their fair share of differences in the past. But who hadn't, especially by this point? The world was closing in on the end of the 20th century. There was far too much in the past for even the nations to keep straight anymore.

But now there was also so much in the future. So much more than any of the countries behind the Iron Curtain could have ever anticipated a mere few years ago. Not terribly long ago, all hope had seemed lost. Bulgaria remembered his own pain quite clearly as he climbed the first of Poenari Castle's 1,480 steps. He was still facing a terrible food shortage, courtesy of his ex-boss's failed Communist policies. But other Eastern Bloc nations, Romania included, were facing the same thing. If it wasn't a food shortage, it was some other kind of crisis, something just as dire that would need to be fixed right away. But how? Good question. Not through more failed Communist policies, that was for sure. Democracy sounded good.

That was what was making this Christmas Day in particular so special. Finland must truly have been a miracle worker, because the greatest miracle for the Soviet nations had finally occurred. Russia, the nation that had started this whole Soviet Union/Eastern Bloc thing, was turning his back on Communism. It wouldn't be long now until the newly former Soviet nations would be running around like crazy, celebrating their newfound freedom. Who would have thought this day would ever come? Bulgaria almost laughed at the idea of it as he began to pant despite the cold, continuing to make his way up those stairs. He made a mental note to remember that having over a thousand steps outside a building was good for delaying invaders but not so good for innocent tourists.

Speaking of the innocent, he suddenly wondered if Prussia was on his way to return to Ukraine. Any idiot could see the bond between them. Bulgaria suddenly wondered if Russia truly hadn't known about them the whole time or if he had been letting them go on purpose. Perhaps no one would ever know. After all, no one, not even those closest to Russia, understood the way his mind worked. Perhaps even Russia didn't know.

Keeping his mind off the stairs had actually made Bulgaria climb them faster. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the castle's entrance. Staring up at it, he gulped audibly. He had never been to Poenari Castle before, but he had heard Romania share stories about it. This was supposed to be the place where Vlad the Impaler had stayed and carried out his...business...torture. Bulgaria shivered and not because of the cold. What remained in this castle? Anything...?

_Romania..._

His mind wandered to his friend, his dear friend Romania. They had made a quiet promise one night in the pitch blackness of the small, cramped room where all the Eastern Bloc countries had stayed whenever they had had to visit Russia's Soviet Union mansion. With the rest of the nations sound asleep, Bulgaria and Romania had grasped the ends of their fingers together and promised to meet at Poenari Castle only after they had won their freedom. At the time, back in the 1950s, it had been a silly promise. The Soviets escaping and celebrating freedom? No time soon. Wait almost fifty years and then see.

But, of course, there Bulgaria was, standing outside the castle where he was to meet his friend. Swallowing the last of his fear, he walked through the open-air entrance and headed higher, daring to venture inside to see what kind of Romanian horrors awaited him.

What he first heard did not disappoint. Someone was clapping and laughing, the sounds echoing eerily throughout the rest of the empty castle. Or he hoped it was empty at least. Did any of Romania's vampire friends hang out here? Bulgaria shook his head, feeling crazy that he had to remind himself that vampires didn't exist. Still, he couldn't help but be afraid of what waited for him. That insane laughter was creepy, but it at least sounded a touch familiar. Bulgaria's heart began to beat wildly. That was Romania laughing, no doubt about it. His friend was waiting for him, just like he had promised.

Without another thought, Bulgaria ran up the remaining stairs, up to the top floor. There, he spotted his friend, who was standing close to the edge of the castle, where he had the most amazing view of the Romanian countryside. Romania's laughter had died down, but he was still clapping. Bulgaria could hear the echoes down in the lower parts of the castle.

Suddenly, Romania turned and grinned wildly, gleaming fangs out for his friend to see. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, clasping his hands together.

Bulgaria almost forgot to breathe. What was he talking about? He decided to take a chance and nodded. "Yeah, it's gorgeous."

Romania just laughed again, this time louder and more like he was actually amused by something. "Not the countryside! Pfft, of course THAT'S beautiful. I'm talking about my country...now. In the moment." His smile softened but Bulgaria could still easily see his fangs. "Your country, too. All our countries."

Bulgaria smiled back. "Oh." Now he understood. He nodded. "Yeah, this is the most gorgeous our countries have ever looked. I never did think that Communism looked good on any of us. It feels wonderful to be free." His smiled suddenly faded. "But...what about all the other countries who are still Communist? What about them?"

Romania shrugged. "One step at a time," he suggested. "They won't last forever, just like ours didn't. Watch. One day, the whole world will be...purged..." He started to snicker and then burst out in uncontrollable, diabolical laughter again.

The sudden change of mood made Bulgaria take a step back. "Romania?"

"Ah haaaaa..." his friend sighed, calming down. "Sorry. I just had a great flashback. It was oddly appropriate for today." His apology did nothing to soothe Bulgaria's fears, for he still had a bloodthirsty (in more ways that one) grin on his face, his fangs catching the low light of the evening. "I was just thinking about Vlad."

"Vlad?"

"The Impaler. Remember? I told you about him."

Bulgaria began to shake. Yes, Romania _had_ told him about his national hero, about how he had saved him from invaders (usually Turkey) and punished anyone who had ever dared to cross him. The punishments had usually been quite...harsh, to put it lightly. In fact, his nickname had come from his favorite torture method. That had later been the inspiration for the fiction vampire Dracula. What a way to be remembered.

Romania chuckled lightly. "You obviously don't know what happened today. What, did you spend so much time and effort getting here that you didn't stop to find out what happened? Weird, I thought no one could miss it."

The Balkan started to get nervous again. There was a mischievous glint in Romania's eyes, almost like he was excited to share news that would shock his friend to the point of horror. Somewhere in the back of Bulgaria's mind, he was pretty sure that that was what Romania was going for. He had always been tricky like that, being the perky little goth he was. Bulgaria also randomly wondered if his friend would turn into a bat at sundown and fly off the castle. He certainly looked like he could, what with his fangs and orange-red eyes and dark, somewhat baggy coat. He had lost weight due to the food shortage, no doubt.

Bulgaria shook his head to erase his mind of these weird thoughts. "I've kind of been having my own problems," he admitted. "We all have, all of us on the East. It started with Poland, back over the summer. When he elected his non-Communist leader, he inspired Hungary. Once she fixed herself up, she was able to help save East Ger..._Prussia_, excuse me." He smirked a bit at the thought of the ex-nation but then frowned again. "My people were inspired by the Berlin Wall finally coming down. They've been rioting in the streets for democratic reforms, but nothing's happened yet. Then I remembered that we had made a promise to meet once the Soviet Union had fallen, and-!"

Romania stopped him, holding his hand up. "I'll read about all that crap in the history books later," he insisted. "Heh, I guess I can't blame you for not knowing what happened today, what with everything else going on. Besides, the execution was only broadcast here in my country."

Bulgaria suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. "'Execution'?" he repeated. All of a sudden, he knew why his friend had been thinking about Vlad the Impaler. Images of merciless, horrifying torture flashed in his mind, and he somehow knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep that night. He mentally, bitterly, thanked Romania for the nightmare fuel.

That didn't seem to bother the vampire before him. "We finally got our hands on him," Romania said casually, slipping his gloves off. "Check it out." He held a bare hand up for his friend to see and found great amusement in the terrified look Bulgaria gave him.

Blood. Romania's hand was covered in blood. Bulgaria suddenly wanted to run out of the castle, down the steps, all 1,480 of them, out towards Bucharest, hoping he'd be able to find some safety. That was a silly thought though, because, even without Romania telling him, he knew that the execution had taken place in Bucharest. He knew whom had died as well. Chances were good people were still celebrating.

"Kinda takes me back to my old days with Vlad, ya know?" Romania sighed as he observed his bloody hand in the fading light of dusk. "We used to take out the invaders together. I guess I got to take out the invader on my own this time, even if I was a little late. Whatever. Ceauşescu had had it coming. Bastard. I never liked him. I had wanted to kill him from Day 1, but I couldn't because of the damn Soviet Union watching everything we did, waiting to punish us. Yeah, I wanted to save my people, but there was a little something...Hmm, what's the name of that all-knowing figure in that one novel? Big Brother? Yeah, it was a little like that. Kinda hard to break Rule 1 for the sake of Rule 2 when you'd be breaking Rule 2 at the same time. What's that other term...a Catch 22? Yeah, that's what I'm thinking of."

As if Bulgaria had needed any more proof that Romania was a country of dark literature.

Shrugging, Romania slipped his glove back on. "Whatever, I don't care anymore," he grunted, turning his back away from the Balkan. He stared out at the empty countryside and grinned. "I don't even know what I'm going to do next. I have no plans for my future right now. But I don't care about that either because I finally got my country back. I'm in my own country, and the Soviet Union has fallen! We're free once again!" He let out another crazed laugh, this one short and sudden, turning around again. "And you?"

Bulgaria stiffened. "It's not like I've got anything left," he reminded his friend.

"Aw, what does that matter?" Romania shot back. "You'll build yourself back up. We all will."

The words of encouragement were quite welcome to Bulgaria. While he was certainly not the worst off of all the Eastern Bloc countries, things were still bad. His mind kept wandering back to his food shortage, and he suddenly remembered that he, too, had lost weight. He and Romania were more alike than he had originally thought. Minus the vampire thing.

That led to another thought, another consequence of Soviet rule. "The borders are going to go back up," he said just loudly enough for Romania to hear. "It was so easy for us to travel back and forth between our countries because we were all Russia's territories, even if we weren't all part of the Soviet Union. Since we're all going to be free and independent with less connections, it'll be harder for us to go back and forth between our countries." He frowned sadly. "I'll miss you."

Romania shrugged again. "Not like we're located on opposite ends of the world. You'll still be my neighbor." He then smirked again and started to walk towards his friend. "Besides, your life would be way boring without me, and my life would be boring without you. It wouldn't be...satisfying." In a flash, he disappeared and reappeared behind Bulgaria, hanging onto his friend and pushing the fabric of his uniform off his shoulder, reveling in the shiver that went down his spine as he did. "You smell good, way better than that bitch Hungary," he whispered. "I guess you could say that a nation that smells good to me is like liquor, addicting." He opened his mouth to reveal his fangs in all their glory and quickly scrapped them against Bulgaria's skin, just hard enough to make Bulgaria feel the action but not hard enough to break the skin. He laughed at the terrified look on his friend's face and the way his body froze with horrific anticipation. "What, you thought I'd suck your blood?" he asked, still laughing lightly. "I'm not an actual vampire, Bulgaria. Vlad just had, hmm, a long-lasting impression on me." He finally pulled away and let the Balkan pull his uniform back into place, still grinning.

"Forgive me for freaking out a bit," Bulgaria snapped back. "Vlad wasn't exactly the friendliest of people. And, to be honest, the stories that come out of your country scare me. You're the only person I know who isn't fazed by the grotesque." He paused to bite his lip, eyes shifting down to Romania's hand. "And...could you wash your hand please? The fact that it's covered in dried blood underneath that glove is pretty disturbing."

Romania sighed. "Yes, I suppose I can, if it would make you feel better. I sort of like it though. Feels cool." But then he smiled, gently this time. It actually put Bulgaria at ease. "Just tell me something," he murmured. "Are you happy? Because I am."

And then, Bulgaria smiled back. "Yeah," he admitted, "I am happy."

"Even though I almost just sucked all the blood right out of you?"

The Balkan cried out and took a step back. "So you WERE planning on sucking my blood!"

Romania laughed out loud. "I'm kidding, I swear! Sorry, I just love messing with you!"

Bulgaria rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, I tease because I love," the wannabe vampire joked, walking past Bulgaria and making his way towards the stairs leading down to the lower level of the castle. "Let's go, we should be celebrating. Look, you'll get what you want soon, I promise. If the Communists aren't out of your country within the next two months or so, I'll help you out. I'll bring a little Vlad action to Sofia!"

"Please don't!" Bulgaria groaned. He rubbed his temples out of frustration. "You scare me," he sighed, "yet I can't live without you in my life. Why..."

"Victory!" Romania giggled. "That's what I've always wanted out of my friendships." He walked back to his friend and gave him a genuine smile. "But, in all seriousness, I promise to stick with you. I know that we fought a lot during World War I and whatever, but that's over, and we've been through too much together. What do you say?"

Bulgaria smiled back. The thought of living the rest of his life as a nation without Romania by his side saddened him. Yes, Romania terrified him at times. He wasn't crazy about the idea of him reliving his days with Vlad the Impaler whenever an execution happened, but, with any luck, there wouldn't be many more of those in the future. Besides, this was Ceauşescu's execution that had triggered the episode. Totally legit.

The Balkan nodded. "I promise to stick with you, too."

The sun had finally set, but Bulgaria could still see the gleam in Romania's eyes and on his fangs. "Perfect," the Romanian said seductively, grasping his friend's arm. "Well? Shall we go?"

He lifted his arm and guided Bulgaria down the stairs. For a moment, Bulgaria could have sworn that Romania's arm had been a bat wing, quick and graceful, allowing them to fly down those first few stairs. No, there was no way that could have been possible. Romania had said that he wasn't a vampire; he had just been heavily influenced by the man who had inspired the world's most famous vampire character. No big deal. It was just his imagination.

Romania just licked his fangs and smiled.

_I don't ever want just another boy or a girl._

_Baby, you and I,_

_Baby, you and I could change the world._

_I don't ever want just another boy or a girl to love._

_I'm stuck, stuck, stuck,_

_Stuck on you._

END

**Historical/Cultural Notes:** Poenari Castle was one of Vlad the Impaler's most used fortresses during the 15th century. Because of its location near the Făgăraș Mountains in Romania, it was the perfect place to spot invaders. It was used after Vlad's death, but it was abandoned by the 16th century. During the Communist era, it was a tourist attraction where foreign visitors could spend the night. Today, it's mostly in ruins, but the walls still stand for the most part. You can't sleep there anymore, but you do indeed have to climb 1,480 steps to reach it. It seemed like a good place for Romania and Bulgaria to meet in private to me.

Vlad the Impaler (Vlad III) was the inspiration for the character Dracula from the Bram Stoker novel of the same name.

Romania and Bulgaria were sworn enemies during World War I. Each one was the other one's target for the most part. Bulgaria was an ally of Austria-Hungary on the side of the Central Powers, and Romania was ready to declare independence from the once-great empire, so it joined the Allies about two years into the war. Even though many of Romania's battles against these two allies ended in disaster, it was still able to take much of its territory back from Austria-Hungary, since the empire dissolved at the end of the war.

Nicolae Ceaușescu was the leader during Romania's Communist era from 1967 to 1989. He was known for being especially cruel and oppressive, and his ideals were extremely Stalinist. Under his reign, relations with all Western powers deteriorated, and even Romania's relationship with the Soviet Union was strained. In December of 1989, the people of Romania rioted and revolutionized their country. Ceaușescu and his wife were captured and executed on Christmas Day in a hasty trial that was televised across the country.

My headcanon dictates that Romania has all the instincts of a vampire without actually being one. To me, he loves blood. Thus, the execution of an enemy would drive him crazy to the point that he would revert back to his old self during his days with Vlad. I don't think that he particularly enjoys torture, but he probably loves seeing his enemies suffer. I think that, since Vlad the Impaler is considered a national hero in Romania, he would have a great influence on the Hetalia character's personality. Also, I just love Romania's fangs. In general, he sort of reminds me of Spike from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer._ I grew up on that show. Thanks, Mom, for letting me watch it as a kid!

I really hope you guys enjoyed this. I sincerely hope that I'll see you all again sometime in the future. (Release more songs this year, Mother Monster!)

~Gothic Dancer


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